U€Se  i{BRARY 


THE 

^ni  ©tfeer  Saks. 

^Y  HANS  CHRISTIAN  ANDERSEN. 


NEW   YORK: 
JOHN     B.     ALDEN.     PUBLISHER. 


COJS)TENT8, 


Tlie  Mnd-King's  Daughter 9 

The  Last  Pearl 81 

The  Metal  Pig 86 

The  Money  Pig 106 

The  Wicked  Prince ^^. . ... 111 

Children's  Prattle ^. 11 

Two  Brothers ^. 12 

By  the  Almshouse  Window 125 

Grandmother 129 

Five  out  of  One  Shell 132 

The  Girl  who  Trod  upon  Bread 138 

The  Old  Oak-tree's  Last  Dream 164 


THE 


MUD-KING'S   DAUGHTER. 


/^:^|^2)HE  storks  are  in  the  habit  of  relating 
</Hril\  ^Q  their  little  ones  many  tales,  all  from 
the  swamps  and  the  bogs.  They  are, 
in  general,  suitable  to  the  ages  and 
comprehensions  of  the  hearers.  The 
smallest  yomigsters  are  contented  with 
mere  soimd,  such  as  "krible,  krable, 
plurremurre."  They  think  that  wonderful; 
but  the  more  advanced  require  something  ra- 
tional, or  at  least  something  about  their  family. 
Of  the  two  most  ancient  and  longest  traditions 
that  have  been  handed  down  among  the  storks, 
we  are  all  acquainted  with  one;  that  about 
Moses,  who  was  placed  by  his  mother  on  the 
banks  of  the  Xile,  was  found  there  by  the 
Icing's  daughter,  was  well  brought  up,  and  be- 
came a  great  man,  such   as   has  never  been 


10  THE   MUD-KING'S    DATJGnTER. 

heard  of  since   in    the   place   where  he   wag 
buried. 

The  other  story  is  not  well  known,  probably 
l)ecause  it  is  a  tale  of  heme ;  yet  it  has  passes 
down  from  one  stork  grandam  to  another  for  a 
thousand  years,  and  each  succeeding  narratoT 
has  told  it  better  and  better,  and  now  we  shall 
tell  it  best  of  all. 

The  first  pair  of  storks  who  related  this  tale 
had  themselves  something  to  do  with  its  events. 
The  place  of  their  summer  sojourn  was  at  the 
Viking's  log-house,  up  by  the  wild  inorass^  at 
Yendsyssel.  It  is  in  Hjoring  district,  away 
near  Skagen,  in  the  north  of  Jutland,  speaking 
with  geographical  precision.  It  is  now  an 
enormous  bog,  and  an  account  of  it  can  be  read 
in  descriptions  of  the  country.  This  place  was 
once  the  bottom  of  the  sea;  but  the  waters 
have  receded,  and  the  ground  has  risen.  It 
stretches  itself  for  miles  on  all  sides,  surrounded 
by  wet  meadows  and  pools  of  water,  by  peat- 
bogs, cloadberries,  and  miserable  stunted  trees. 
A  heavy  mist  almost  always  hangs  over  this 
place,  and  about  seventy  years  ago  wolves  were 
found  there.  It  is  rightly  called  "tlie  wild 
morass ;"  and  one  may  imagine  how  sav^age  it 
must  have  been,  and  how  much  swamp  and  sea 


THE  mud-king's   DAUGHTER.  11 

must  have  existed  there  a  thousand  years  ago 
Yes,  in  these  respects  the  same  was  to  be  seen 
there  as  is  to  be  seen  now.  The  rushes  had  the 
same  height,  the  same  sort  of  long  leaves,  and 
blue-brown,  feather-like  flowers,  that  they  bear 
now ;  the  birch-tree  stood  with  its  white  bark 
and  delicate  drooping  leaves,  as  now;  and,  in 
regard  to  the  living  creatures,  the  flies  had  the 
same  sort  of  crape  clothing  as  they  wear  now ; 
and  the  storks'  bodies  were  white,  with  black 
and  red  stockings.  Mankind,  on  the  contrary, 
at  that  time  wore  coats  cut  in  another  fashion 
from  what  they  do  in  our  days ;  but  every  one  ol 
them,  serf  or  Imntsman,  whosoever  he  might  be 
w^ho  trod  upon  the  quagmire,  fared  a  thousand 
years  ago  as  they  fare  now :  one  step  forward — 
they  fell  in,  and  sank  down  to  the  Mud-king, 
as  he  was  called  who  reigned  below  in  the  great 
morass  kingdom.  Yery  little  is  kn o^ti  about  his 
government ;  but  that  is,  perhaps,  a  good  thing. 

]^ear  the  bog,  close  by  Liimfjorden,  lay  the 
V^iking's  log-house  of  three  stories  high,  and 
with  a  tower  and  stone  cellars.  The  storks 
had  built  their  nest  upon  the  roof  of  this  dwell- 
ing. The  female  stork  sat  upon  her  eggs,  and 
felt  certain  they  would  be  all  hatched. 

One  evening  the  male  stork  remained  out 


12  THE    mud-king's    DAUGHTER. 

very  long,  and  when  lie  came  home  he  looked 
rumpled  and  flurried. 

"  I  have  something  very  terrible  to  tell  thee,' 
he  said  to  the  female  stork. 

"  Thou  hadst  better  keep  it  to  thyself,"  sai 
she.     "  Remember,  I  am  sitting  upon  the  eggs . 
a  fright  might  do  me  harm,  and  the  eggs  might 
be  injured." 

"But  it  must  be  told  thee,"  he  replied. 
"  She  has  come  here — the  daughter  of  our  host 
in  Egypt.  She  has  ventured  the  long  journey 
up  hither,  and  she  is  lost." 

"She  who  is  of  the  fairies'  race?  Speali, 
then !  Thou  knowest  that  I  cannot  bear  sus- 
pense while  I  am  sitting." 

"Know,  then,  that  she  believed  what  the 
doctors  said,  w^hich  thou  didst  relate  to  me. 
She  believed  that  the  bog-plants  up  here  could 
cure  her  invalid  father;  and  she  has  flovni 
hither,  in  the  magic  disguise  of  a  swan,  with 
the  two  other  swan  princesses,  who  every  year 
come  hither  to  the  north  to  bathe  and  renew 
their  youth.     She  has  come,  and  she  is  lost." 

"  Thou  dost  spin  the  matter  out  so  long," 
muttered  the  female  stork,  "  the  eggs  will  bo 
quite    cooled.      I   cannot  bear  suspense  just 


13 


"  I  will  come  to  the  point,^'  replied  tlie  male. 
"  This  evening  I  went  to  the  rushes  where  the 
quagmire  could  bear  me.  Then  came  three 
swans.  There  was  something  in  their  motions 
which  said  to  me,  'Take  care;  thej  ai*e  not 
real  swans;  thej  are  only  the  appearance  o! 
swans,  created  by  magic'  Thou  wouldst  have 
known  as  well  as  I  that  thej  were  not  of  the 
right  sort." 

"  Yes,  sm-elj,"  she  said ;  "  but  tell  me  about 
the  princess.  I  am  tired  of  hearing  about  the 
swans." 

"  In  the  midst  of  the  morass — here,  I  must 
tell  thee,  it  is  like  a  lake,"  said  the  male  stork 
— ''  thou  canst  see  a  portion  of  it,  if  thou  wilt 
raise  thyself  up  a  moment — yonder,  by  the 
rushes  and  the  green  morass,  lay  a  large  stump 
of  an  alder-tree.  The  three  swans  alighted 
upon  it,  flapped  their  wings,  and  looked  about 
them.  One  of  them  cast  off  her  swan  disguise, 
and  I  recognized  in  her  our  royal  princess  froni 
Egypt.  She  sat  now  with  no  other  mantlu 
around  her  than  her  long  dark  hair.  I  heard 
her  desire  the  other  two  to  take  good  care  of 
her  magic  swan  garb,  while  she  ducked  down 
under  the  water  to  pluck  the  flower  which  she 
thought  she  saw      They  nodded,  anr^  raised  the 


14 


empty  feather  dress  between  them.  '  What  arc 
they  going  to  do  with  it?'  said  I  to  myself; 
and  she  probably  asked  herself  the  same  ques- 
tion. The  answer  came  too  soon,  for  I  saw 
them  take  flight  np  into  the  air  with  her 
charmed  feather  dress.  '  Dive  thou  there  1' 
they  cried :  '  Kever  more  shalt  thou  fly  in  tlie 
form  of  a  magic  sw^an — never  more  shalt  thou 
behold  the  land  of  Egypt.  Dwell  thou  in  the 
wild  m,ora8S  P  And  they  tore  her  magic  dis- 
guise into  a  hundred  pieces,  so  that  the  feath- 
ers whirled  around  about  as  if  there  were  a  fall 
of  snow;  and  away  flew  the  two  worthless 
princesses." 

"It  is  shocking!"  said  the  lady  stork;  "I 
can't  bear  to  hear  it.  Tell  me  what  more  hap- 
pened." 

"  The  princess  sobbed  and  wept.  Iler  tears 
trickled  down  upon  the  trank  of  the  alder-tree, 
and  then  it  moved ;  for  it  was  the  mud-king 
himself — he  who  dwells  in  the  morass.  I  saw 
the  trunk  turn  itself,  and  then  there  was  Jio 
more  trunk — it  stuck  up  two  long  miry  branches 
like  arms ;  then  the  poor  child  became  dread- 
fully alarmed,  and  she  sprang  aside  upon  the 
green  slimy  coating  of  the  marsh ;  but  it  could 
not  bear  me,  much  less  her,  and  she  sank  im 


Ic 


mediately  in.  The  trunk  of  the  alder-tree  went 
down  with  her — it  was  that  which  had  dragged 
her  do\7n :  then  arose  to  the  surface  large  black 
Dubbles,  and  all  further  traces  of  her  disap 
peared.  She  is  now  buried  in  'the  wild  mo- 
rass;' and  never,  never  shall  she  return  to 
Egypt  with  the  flower  she  sought.  Thou 
couldst  not  have  borne  to  have  seen  all  this, 
mother." 

"  Thou  hadst  no  business  to  tell  me  such  a 
startling  tale  at  a  time  like  this.  The  egga 
may  suffer.  The  princess  can  take  care  of  her- 
self:  she  will  no  doubt  be  rescued.  If  it  had 
been  me  or  thee,  or  any  of  our  family,  it  would 
have  been  all  over  with  us." 

"  I  will  look  after  her  every  day,  however, ** 
said  the  male  stork ;  and  so  he  did. 

A  long  time  had  elapsed,  when  one  day  he 
saw  that  far  down  frpm  the  bottom  was  shoot- 
ing up  a  green  stem,  and  when  it  reached  the 
surface  a  leaf  grew  on  it.  The  leaf  became 
broader  and  broader ;  close  by  it  came  a  bud  ; 
and  one  morning,  when  the  stork  flew  over  it, 
the  bud  opened  in  the  warm  sunshine,  and  in 
the  centre  of  it  lay  a  beautiful  infant,  a  little 
girl,  just  as  if  she  had  been  taken  out  of  a  bath. 
She  so  strongly  resembled  the  princess  from 


le 


Egypt,  tliat  the  stork  at  first  thought  it  was 
herself  who  had  become  an  infant  again ;  but 
when  he  considered  the  matter,  he  came  to  tlie 
conclusion  that  she  was  the  daughter  of  the 
princess  and  the  mud-king,  therefore  she  lay  in 
the  calyx  of  a  water-lily. 

"  8he  cannot  be  left  lying  there,"  said  the 
stork  to  himself;  "  yet  in  my  nest  we  are  al- 
ready too  over-crowded.  But  a  thought  strikes 
me.  The  Yiking's  wife  has  no  children ;  she 
has  much  wished  to  have  a  pet.  I  am  often 
blamed  for  bringing  little  ones ;  I  shall  now,  foi 
once,  do  so  in  reality.  I  shall  fly  with  this  in- 
fant to  the  Yiking's  wife ;  it  will  be  a  great 
pleasure  to  her." 

And  the  stork  took  the  little  girl,  flew  to  the 
log-house,  knocked  with  his  beak  a  hole  in  the 
window-pane  of  stretched  bladder,  laid  the  in- 
fant in  the  arms  of  the  Yiking's  wife,  then  flew 
to  his  mate,  and  unburdened  his  mind  to  her ; 
while  the  little  ones  listened  attentively,  for 
thev  were  old  enouerh  now  to  do  that. 

"  Only  think,  the  princess  is  not  dead.  She 
has  sent  her  little  one  up  here,  and  now  it  is 
well  provided  for." 

"  I  told  thee  from  the  beginning  it  would  be 
all  well,"  said  the  mother  stork.     "  Turn  thj 


17 


thoiights  now  to  thine  own  family.  It  is  almost 
time  for  our  long  journey ;  I  begin  now  to 
tingle  under  the  wings.  The  cuckoo  and  tlie 
nightingale  are  already  gone,  and  I  hear  the 
juails  saying  that  we  shall  soon  have  a  fair 
wind.  Our  young  ones  are  quite  able  to  go,  I 
know  that." 

How  happy  the  Yiking's  wife  was  when,  in 
the  morning,  she  awoke  and  found  the  lovely 
little  child  lying  on  her  breast !  She  kissed  it 
and  caressed  it,  but  it  screeched  frightfully,  and 
floundered  about  with  its  little  arms  and  less : 
IT  evidently  seemed  little  pleased.  At  last 
it  cried  itself  to  sleep,  and  as  it  lay  there  it  was 
one  of  the  most  beautiful  little  creatures  that 
could  be  seen.  The  Yiking's  wife  was  so 
pleased  and  happy,  she  took  it  into  her  head 
that  her  husband,  with  all  his  retainers,  would 
come  as  unexpectedly  as  the  little  one  had 
done ;  and  she  set  herself  and  the  whole  house- 
hold to  work,  in  order  that  every  thing  might 
be  ready  for  then-  reception.  The  colored  ta- 
pestry which  she  and  her  women  had  embroi- 
dered with  representations  of  their  gods — Odin-, 
Thok,  and  Fkeia,  as  they  were  called — were 
hung  up ;  the  serfs  were  ordered  to  clean  and 
V>olisii  the  old    shields  with   which  the  walla 


18 


wer^.  to  be  decorated;  cushions  were  laid  oii 
the  benches,  and  dry  logs  of  wood  were  heaped 
on  the  fireplace  in  the  centre  of  the  hail,  so 
that  the  pile  might  be  easily  lighted.  Tho 
Viking's  wife  had  labored  so  hard  herself  tha 
Bhe  was  quite  tired  by  the  evening,  and  slep 
soundly. 

When  she  awoke  towards  morning  she  be- 
came much  alarmed,  for  the  little  child  was 
gone.  She  sprang  up,  lighted  a  twig  of  the 
pine-tree,  and  looked  about ;  and,  to  her  amaze- 
ment, she  saw,  in  the  part  of  the  bed  to  which 
she  stretched  her  feet,  not  the  beautiful  infant, 
but  a  great,  ugly  frog.  She  was  so  much  dis- 
gusted with  it  that  she  took  up  a  heavy  stick, 
and  was  going  to  kill  the  nasty  creature ;  but 
it  looked  at  her  with  such  wonderfully  sad  and 
speaking  eyes,  that  she  could  not  strike  it. 
Again  she  searched  about.  The  frog  gave  a 
faint,  ]3itiable  cry.  She  started  up,  and  sprang 
from  the  bed  to  the  window :  she  opened  the 
shutters,  and  at  the  same  moment  the  sun 
streamed  in,  and  cast  its  bright  beams  upon 
the  bed  and  upon  the  large  frog;  and  all  at 
once  it  seemed  as  if  the  broad  mouth  of  the 
noxious  animal  drew  itself  in,  and  became 
small  and  red — the  limbs  stretched  themselvei 


THE   mud-king's    D^LGHTER.  19 

into  the  most  beautiful  form — ^it  was  her  own 
little,  lovely  cliild  that  lay  there,  and  no  ugly 
frog. 

"  What  is  all  this  ?"  she  exclakned.  "  Have 
I  di'eamed  a  bad  dream  ?  That  certainly  is  my 
pretty,  little  elfin  child  lying  yonder."  And 
she  kissed  it  and  strained  it  affectionately  to 
her  heart ;  but  it  sti-uggied,  and  tried  to  bite 
like  the  kitten  of  a  wild  cat. 

Neither  the  next  day  nor  the  day  after  came 
the  Yiking,  though  he  was  on  the  way,  but  the 
wind  was  against  him ;  it  was  for  the  storks. 
A  fair  wind  for  one  is  a  contrary  wind  for  an- 
other. 

In  the  course  of  a  few  days  and  nights  it  be- 
came evident  to  the  Viking's  wife  how  things 
stood  with  the  little  child — that  it  was  under 
the  influence  of  some  terrible  witchcraft.  By 
day,  it  was  as  beautiful  as  an  angel,  but  it  had 
a  wild,  evil  disposition ;  by  night,  on  the  con- 
trary, it  was  an  ugly  frog,  quiet,  except  for  its 
croaking,  and  with  melancholy  eyes.  It  had 
two  natures,  that  changed  about,  both  without 
an  dt  within.  This  arose  from  the  little  girl 
whom  the  stork  had  brought  possessing  by  day 
her  own  mother's  external  appearance,  and  at 
the  same  time  her  father's  temper ;  while,  by 


20  THE   MtDEING's   DADGHTEE. 

night,  on  the  contrary,  she  showed  her  conneo 
tion  with  him  outwardly  in  her  form,  whilst 
her  mother's  mind  and  heart  inwardly  became 
hers.  What  art  conld  release  her  from  the 
power  which  exercised  such  sorcery  over  her  ? 
The  Yiking's  wife  felt  much  anxiety  and  dis- 
Tess  about  it,  and  yet  her  heart  hung  on  the 
poor  little  being,  of  w^hose  strange  state  she 
thought  she  should  not  dare  to  inform  her  hus- 
band when  he  came  home  ;  for  he  assuredly,  as 
was  the  custom,  would  put  the  poor  child  out 
on  the  high-road,  and  let  any  one  take  it  who 
would.  The  Yiking's  good-natured  wife  had 
not  the  heart  to  allow  this ;  therefore  she  re- 
Bolved  that  he  should  never  see  the  child  but 
by  day. 

At  dawn  of  day  the  wings  of  the  storks  were 
ieard  fluttering  over  the  roof.  During  the 
night  more  than  a  hundred  pau's  of  storks  had 
been  making  their  preparations,  and  now  they 
flew  up  to  wend  their  way  to  the  south. 

"  Let  all  the  males  be  ready,"  was  the  cry. 
'*  Let  their  mates  and  little  ones  join  them." 

"How  light  we  feel !"  said  the  young  storks, 
who  were  all  impatience  to  be  ofi".  "How 
charming  to  be  able  to  travel  to  other  lands !" 

"Keep  ye  all  together  in  one  flock,"  cried 


THE    mud-king's    DAUGHTER.  21 

the  father  and  mother,  "  and  don't  cliatter  so 
much — it  will  take  away  your  breath." 

So  tliey  all  flew  away. 

A.bout  the  same  time  the  blast  of  a  horn 
feoimding  over  the  heath,  gave  notice  that  the 
Viking  had  landed  with  all  his  men ;  they  were 
retm*ning  home  with  rich  booty  from  the  Gallic 
coast,  where  the  people,  as  in  Britain,  sang  in 
their  terror — 

"  Save  us  from  the  savage  Normans  1" 

What  life  and  bnstle  were  now  apparent  in 
the  Yiking's  castle  near  "the  wild  morass!" 
Casks  of  mead  were  brought  into  the  hall,  the 
pile  of  wxod  was  lighted,  and  horses  were 
slaughtered  for  the  grand  feast  which  was  to 
be  prepared.  The  sacrificial  priests  sprinkled 
with  the  horses'  warm  blood  the  slaves  who 
were  to  assist  in  the  offering.  The  fii'es 
crackled,  the  smoke  rolled  up  under  the  roof, 
the  soot  dropped  from  the  beams ;  but  people 
were  accustomed  to  that.  Guests  w^ere  invited, 
and  they  brought  handsome  gifts ;  rancor  and 
falseness  were  forgotten — they  all  became 
drunk  together,  and  they  thi'ust  their  doubled 
iists  into  each  other's  faces — which  w^as  a  sign  oi 
good-humor.  The  skald — he  was  a  sort  of  poet 
and  musician,  but  at  the  same  time  a  waiTioi 


22  THE  mud-king's  daughter. 

— who  had  been  with  them,  and  had  witnessed 
what  he  sang  about,  gave  them  a  song,  wherein 
they  heard  recounted  all  their  achievements  m 
battle  and  wonderful  adventures.  At  the  end 
of  every  verse  came  the  same  refrain — 

"Fortune  dies,  friends  die,  one  dies  one's  self  ; 
but  a  glorious  name  never  dies." 

And  then  they  all  struck  on  their  shields,  and 
thundered  with  their  knives  or  their  knu<ikle- 
bones  on  the  table,  so  that  they  made  a  tre- 
mendous noise. 

The  Yiking's  wife  sat  on  the  cross  bench  in 
the  open  banquet  hall.  She  w^ore  a  silk  dress, 
gold  bracelets,  and  large  amber  beads.  She 
was  in  her  grandest  attire,  and  the  skald  named 
her  also  in  his  song,  and  spoke  of  the  golden 
treasure  she  had  brought  her  husband ;  and  he 
rejoiced  in  the  lovely  child  he  had  only  seen 
by  daylight,  in  all  its  wondrous  beauty.  The 
fierce  temper  which  accompanied  her  exterior 
charms  pleased  him.  "  She  might  become,'' 
he  said,  "  a  stalwart  female  waiTior,  and  able 
to  kill  a  giant  adversary."  She  never  even 
blinked  her  eyes  when  a  practised  hand,  in 
Bport,  cut  off  her  eyebrows  with  a  sharp  sword. 

The  mead  casks  were  emptied,  others  wevf 


THE   MLB-KINGS   DAUGHTER.  Zd 

iirought  up,  and  these,  too,  ^rere  drained  ;  for 
there  were  folks  present  who  conld  stand  a 
good  deal.  To  them  might  have  been  applied 
the  old  proverb,  "  The  cattle  know  when  to 
leave  the  pasture;  but  an  unwise  man  nevei 
knows  the  depth  of  his  stomach." 

Yes,  they  all  know  it;  but  people  often 
know  the  right  tiling,  and  do  the  wi-ong.  They 
know  also  that  "  one  wears  out  one's  welcome 
when  one  stays  too  long  in  another  man's 
house ;"  but  they  remained  there  for  all  that. 
Meat  and  mead  are  good  things.  All  went  on 
merrily,  and  towards  night  the  slaves  slept 
amidst  the  warm  ashes,  and  dipped  thcnr  fingers 
into  the  fat  skimmings  of  the  soup,  and  licked 
them.     It  was  a  rare  time ! 

And  again  the  Yiking  went  forth  on  an  ex- 
pedition, notwithstanding  the  stormy  weather. 
He  went  after  the  crops  were  gathered  in.  Ho 
went  with  his  men  to  the  coast  of  Britain — "  it 
was  only  across  the  water,"  he  said — and  Lis 
wife  remained  at  home  with  her  little  girl ;  and 
it  was  soon  to  be  seen  that  the  foster-mother 
cared  almost  more  for  the  poor  frog,  with  the 
honest  eyes  and  plaintive  croaking,  thanf:;r  the 
beauty  who  scratched  and  bit  everybody  around. 

The  raw,  damp,  autumn  mist,  that  l<«t>i>eni 


24  THE  MUD-Kma's   DAUGHTER. 

the  leaver^  from  the  trees,  lay  over  wood 
and  hedge;  "Birdfeatherless,"  as  the  snow  is 
called,  was  falling  thickly ;  winter  was  close  at 
hand.  The  sparrows  seized  npon  the  storks' 
nest,  and  talked  over,  in  their  fashion,  the  q]> 
sent  owners.  They  themselves,  the  stork  pair, 
with  all  their  young  ones,  where  were  they 
now? 

The  storks  were  now  in  the  land  of  Eg}^t, 
where  the  sun  was  shining  warmly  as  with  us  on 
a  lovely  summer  day.  The  tamarind  and  the 
acacia  grew  there;  the  moonbeams  streamed 
over  the  temples  of  Mohammed.  On  the  slen- 
der minarets  sat  many  a  pair  of  storks,  reposing 
after  their  long  journey :  the  whole  immense 
flock  had  fixed  themselves,  nest  by  nest,  amidst 
the  mighty  pillars  and  broken  porticos  of  tem- 
ples and  forgotten  edifices.  The  date-tree  ele- 
vated to  a  great  height  its  broad  leafy  roof,  as  if 

t  wished  to  form  a  shelter  from  the  sun.  The 
gray  pyramids  stood  with  their  outlines  sharply 
defined  in  the  clear  air  towards  the  desert, 
where  the  ostrich  knew  he  could  use  his  legs ; 

nd  the  lion  sat  with  his  large  grave  eyes,  and 
^azed  on  the  marble  sphinxes  that  lay  half  im- 
bedded in  the  sand.     The  waters  of  the  Nile 


25 


had  receded,  and  a  great  part  of  the  bed  of  tlii 
river  was  swarming  with  frogs ;  and  that,  to 
the  stork  family,  was  the  pleasantest  siglit  in 
the  country  where  they  had  arrived.  The 
onng  ones  were  astonished  at  all  they  saw. 
'  "  Such  are  the  sights  here,  and  thus  it  always 
is  in  our  warm  country,"  said  the  stork-mother, 
good-humoredly. 

"  Is  there  yet  more  to  be  seen  ?"  they  asked 
"  Shall  we  go  much  fiu-ther  into  the  country  ?" 

"  There  is  nothing  more  worth  seeing,"  re- 
plied the  stork-mother.  "  Beyond  tliis  luxuri- 
ant neighborhood  there  is  nothing  but  wild 
forests,  where  the  trees  grow  close  to  each  other, 
and  are  still  more  closely  entangled  by  prickly 
creeping  plants,  weaving  such  a  wall  of  verdure, 
that  only  the  elephant,  with  his  strong  clumsy 
feet,  can  there  tread  his  way.  The  snakes  are 
too  laro;e  for  us  there,  and  the  lizards  too  livelv. 
If  ye  would  go  to  the  desert,  ye  will  meet  with 
nothing  but  sand ;  it  wiU  fill  your  eyes,  it  wil] 
come  in  gusts,  and  cover  your  feathers.  Ko,  it 
is  best  here.  Here  are  frogs  and  grasshoppers. 
I  shall  remain  here,  and  so  shall  you." 

And  they  remained.  The  old  ones  sat  in 
their  nest  upon  the  graceful  minaret ;  they  re- 
posed themselves,  and  yet  thev  had  enough  tc 


THE  MUD-KING  S   DAUGHTEB. 


V 


do  to  smootli  tlieir  wings  and  nib  their  beaks 
on  tlieir  red  stockings ;  and  thej  stretched  out 
their  necks,  sahited  gravely,  and  lifted  up  their 
I  leads  with  their  high  foreheads  and  fine  sof 
feathers,  and  their  brown  eyes  looked  so  wise. 

The  female  yonng  ones  strutted  about  proudly 
among  the  juicy  reeds,  stole  sly  glances  at  the 
other  young  storks,  made  acquaintances,  and 
slaughtered  a  frog  at  every  third  step,  or  went 
lounging  about  with  little  snakes  in  their  bills, 
which  they  fancied  looked  well,  and  which  they 
knew  would  taste  well. 

The  male  young  ones  got  into  quan-els; 
struck  each  other  with  their  wings ;  peclced  at 
each  other  with  then-  beaks,  even  until  blood 
flowed.  Then  they  all  thought  of  engaging 
themselves — the  male  and  the  female  young 
ones.  It  was  for  that  they  lived,  and  they  built 
nests,  and  got  again  into  new  quarrels ;  for  in 
these  wann  countries  every  one  is  so  hotheaded. 
Nevertheless  they  were  very  hap]:>y,  and  this 
was  a  great  joy  to  the  old  storks.  Every  day 
there  was  warm  sunshine — every  day  plenty  tc 
eat.  They  had  nothing  to  think  of  except 
pleasure.  But  yonder,  within  the  splendid  pal- 
ace of  tlieir  Egyptian  host,  as  they  called  him 
"Jiere  was  but  little  pleasure  to  be  found 


THE   MXT)-KIXG's   DAUGHl-EK.  27 

The  wealtliy,  miglity  chief  lay  upon  his 
couch,  stifieued  in  all  his  limbs — stretched  out 
like  a  mummy  in  the  centre  of  the  grand  sa- 
loon with  the  many-colored  painted  walls :  it 
was  as  if  he  were  lying  in  a  tulip.  Kinsmen 
and  servants  stood  around  him.  Dead  he  waa 
not,  yet  it  could  hardly  be  said  that  he  lived. 
The  healing  bog  flower  from  the  far-away  lands 
in  the  north — that  which  she  was  to  have  sought 
and  plucked  for  him — she  who  loved  him  best 
— would  never  now  be  brought.  His  beautiful 
young  daughter,  who  in  the  magic  garb  of  a 
swan  had  flo^Ti  over  sea  and  land  away  to  the 
distant  north,  would  never  more  return.  "  §he 
is  dead  and  gone,"  had  the  two  swan  ladies,  her 
companions,  declared  on  their  return  home. 
They  had  concocted  a  tale,  and  they  told  it  as 
follows. 

"  We  had  flown  all  three  high  up  in  the  air 
when  a  sportsman  saw  us,  and  shot  at  us  with 
his  arrow.  It  struck  our  young  friend;  and, 
Blowly  singing  her  farewell  song,  she  sank  like 
a  dying  swan  down  into  the  midst  of  the  lake 
m  the  wood.  There,  on  its  banks,  under  a 
fragrant  weeping  birch-tree,  we  buried  her. 
But  we  took  a  just  revenge :  we  bound  Are  un- 
der the  wings  of  the  swallow  that  built  unde? 


the  sportsman's  thatched  roof.  It  kindled— hia 
house  was  soon  in  flames — ^lie  was  burned  within 
it — and  the  flames  shone  as  far  over  the  sea  aa 
to  the  drooping  birch,  where  she  is  now  earth 
within  the  earth.  Alas  !  never  will  she  retnri 
to  the  land  of  Egypt." 

And  thej  both  wept  bitterly ;  and  the  old 
stork-father,  when  he  heard  it,  rubbed  his  bill 
until  it  was  quite  sore. 

"Lies  and  deceit!"  he  cried.  "I  should 
like,  above  all  things,  to  run  my  beak  into  their 
breasts." 

"  And  break  it  off,"  said  the  stork-mother ; 
"  you  would  look  remarkably  well  then.  Think 
flrst  of  yourself,  and  the  interests  of  your  own 
family;  every  thing  else  is  of  little  conse- 
quence." 

"  I  will,  however,  jDlace  myself  upon  the  edge 
of  the  open  cupola  to-morrcnv,  when  all  the 
learned  and  the  wise  are  to  assemble  to  take 
the  case  of  the  sick  man  into  consideration; 
perhaps  they  may  then  arrive  a  little  nearer  to 
the  truth." 

And  the  learned  and  the  wise  met  together, 
and  talked  much,  deeply,  and  profoundly,  of 
which  the  stork  could  make  nothing  at  all; 
^nd,  s:>oth  to  say,  there  was  no  result  obtained 


THE    MUD- king's    DACGHTES.  29 

from  all  tliis  talking,  either  for  the  invalid  or 
for  his  daughter  in  "the  wild  morass;"  yet, 
nevertheless,  it  was  all  very  well  to  listen  to — 
one  must  listen  to  a  great  deal  in  this  world. 

But  now  it  were  best,  perhaps,  for  us  to  hear 
what  had  happened  formerly.  "We  shall  then 
be  better  acquainted  with  the  story — at  least, 
we  shall  know  as  much  as  the  stork-father  did. 

"  Love  bestows  life ;  the  highest  love  bestows 
the  highest  life;  it  is  only  through  love  that 
his  life  can  be  saved,"  was  what  had  been  said ; 
and  it  was  amazingly  wisely  and  well  said,  the 
learned  declared. 

"  It  is  a  beautiful  thought,"  said  the  stork- 
father. 

"  I  don't  quite  comprehend  it,"  said  the  stork- 
mother,  "but  that  is  not  ray  fault — it  is  the 
fault  of  the  thought ;  though  it  is  all  one  to  me, 
for  I  have  other  things  to  tliink  upon." 

And  then  the  learned  talked  of  love  between 
this  and  that — that  there  was  a  difference. 
Love  such  as  lovers  felt,  and  that  between  pa- 
rents and  children ;  between  light  and  plants 
liow  the  sunbeams  kissed  the  ground,  and  how 
thereby  the  seeds  sprouted  forth — it  was  all  so 
diffusely  and  learnedly  expounded,  that  it  was 
i'H  possible  for  the   stork-father  to  follow  tha 


30 


discourse,  much  less  to  repeat  it.     It  made  him 

vQYj  thoughtful,  however;    he  half  closed  his- 
eyes,  and  actually  stood  on  one  leg  the  whole 
of  the  next  day,  reflecting  on  what  he  ha^ 
heard.     So  much  learning  was  difficult  for  him 
to  digest*. 

But  this  much  the  stork-father  understood. 
He  had  heard  both  common  people  and  great 
people  speak  as  if  they  really  felt  it,  that  it  waa 
a  great  misfortune  to  many  thousands,  and  to 
tlie  country  in  general,  that  the  king  lay  so  ill, 
and  tliat  nothing  could  be  done  to  bring  about 
Ills  recovery.  It  would  be  a  joy  and  a  blessing 
to  all  if  he  could  but  be  restored  to  health. 

"But  where  grew  the  health-giving  flower 
that  might  cure  him  ?"  Everybody  asked  that 
question.  Scientific  writings  were  searched, 
the  glittering  stars  were  consulted,  the  wind 
and  the  weather.  Every  traveller  that  could 
be  found  was  appealed  to,  until  at  length  the 
learned  and  the  wise,  as  before  stated,  pitched 
upon  this :  "  Love  bestows  life — ^life  to  a  father." 
And  though  this  dictum  was  really  not  under 
stood  by  themselves,  they  adopted  it,  and  wrote 
it  out  as  a  prescription.  ''  Love  bestows  litV 
■ — well  and  good.  But  how  was  this  to  be  ap 
plied  ?    Here  they  were  at  a  stand.     At  length, 


31 


However,  tliey  agreed  that  tlie  princess  must  be 
tlie  means  of  procnring  the  necessary  help,  as 
Bhe  loved  her  father  with  all  her  heart  and 
Boul.  They  also  agreed  on  a  mode  of  proceed- 
ing. It  is  more  than  a  year  and  a  day  since 
then.  They  settled  that,  when  the  new  moon 
had  just  disappeared,  she  was  to  betake  herseli 
by  night  to  the  marble  sphinx  in  the  desert,  to 
remove  the  sand  from  the  entrance  with  her 
"oot,  and  then  to  follow  one  of  the  long  passages 
v^hich  led  to  the  centre  of  the  great  pyramids, 
where  one  of  the  most  mighty  monarchs  ot 
ancient  times,  surrounded  by  splendor  and 
magnificence,  lay  in  his  mummy-coffin.  There 
she  was  to  lean  her  head  over  the  corpse,  and 
then  it  would  be  revealed  to  her  where  life  and 
health  for  her  father  were  to  be  found. 

All  this  she  had  performed,  and  in  a  dream 
had  been  instructed  that  from  the  deep  morass 
high  up  in  the  Danish  land — the  place  was 
minutely  described  to  her — she  might  bring 
home  a  certain  lotus-flower,  which  beneath  the 
water  would  t4>uch  her  breast,  that  would  cure 
him. 

And  therefore  she  had  flown,  in  the  magica 
disguise  of  a  swan,  fi-om  Egypt  up  to  'Hbt 


82  THE  mud-king's  daughteb. 

the  stork-father  and  stork-raotlier :  and  no\\, 
though  rather  late,  we  also  know  it.  We 
know  that  tlie  mud-king  dragged  her  down 
with  him,  and  that,  as  far  as  regarded  her 
home,  she  was  dead  and  gone ;  only  the  wisest 
of  them  all  said,  like  the  stork-mother,  "  She 
can  take  care  of  herself;"  and,  knowing  no 
better,  they  waited  to  see  what  would  turn  up. 

"  I  think  I  shall  steal  their  swan  garbs  from 
the  two  wicked  princesses,"  said  the  stork- 
father  ;  "  then  they  will  not  be  able  to  go  to 
'the  wild  morass'  and  do  mischief.  I  shall 
leave  the  swan  disguises  themselves  up  yonder 
till  there  is  some  use  for  them." 

"  Where  could  you  keep  them  ?"  asked  the 
old  female  stork. 

"  In  our  nest  near  ^  the  wild  morass,' "  he  re- 
plied. "  I  and  our  eldest  young  ones  can  carry 
them;  and  if  we  find  them  too  troublesome, 
tliere  are  plenty  of  places  on  the  way  where 
we  can  liide  them  until  our  next  flight.  One 
Bwan's  dress  would  be  enough  for  lier,  to  be 
Eure ;  but  two  are  better.  It  is  a  good  thing 
to  have  abundant  means  of  travelling  at  com 
mand  in  a  country  so  far  north." 

"  You  will  get  no  thanks  for  what  you  pro 
pose  doing,"  said  the  stork-mother ;  '^  but  you 


33 


are  the  master,  and  must  please  jourself     1 
liave  notliing  to  say  except  at  hatching-time." 

At  the  Yiking's  castle  near  "  the  wild  mo- 
rass," whither  the  storks  were  flying  in  th 
spring,  the  little  girl  had  received  her  name, 
She  was  called  Helga ;  but  this  name  was  too 
soft  for  one  with  such  dispositions  as  that  lovely 
little  creature  had.  She  grew  fast  month  by 
month;  and  in  a  few  years,  even  while  the 
storks  were  making  theh*  habitual  jom^neys  in 
autumn  towards  the  ^i\e,  in  spring  towards 
"  the  wild  morass,"  the  little  child  had  grown 
up  into  a  big  girl,  and  before  any  one  could 
have  thought  it,  she  was  in  her  sixteenth  year, 
and  a  most  beautiful  young  lady — charming  ii? 
appearance,  but  hard  and  fierce  in  temper — 
the  most  savage  of  the  savage  in  that  gloomy, 
cruel  time. 

It  was  a  pleasure  to  her  to  sprinkle  with  her 
white  hands  the  reeking  blood  of  the  horse 
slaughtered  for  an  offering.  She  would  bite, 
in  her  barbarous  sport,  the  neck  of  the  black 
cock,  which  was  to  be  slaughtered  by  the  sac- 
rificial priest ;  and  to  her  foster-father  she  said 
in  positive  earnestness : 

"  K  your  enemy  were  to  come  and  cast  ropes 


34 


over  the  beams  that  support  the  roof,  and  drag 
them  down  upon  yom-  chamber  whilst  yon 
were  sleeping,  I  would  not  awaken  yon  if  1 
could — I  wonld  not  hear  it — the  blood  would 
tingle  as  it  does  now  in  that  ear  on  which 
years  ago,  you  dared  to  give  me  a  blow.  I 
remember  it  well." 

But  the  Yiking  did  not  believe  slie  spoke 
seriously.  Like  every  one  else,  he  was  fas- 
cinated by  her  extreme  beauty,  and  never 
troubled  hhnself  to  observe  if  the  mind  of  little 
Helga  were  in  unison  with  her  Iouks.  8he 
would  sit  on  horseback  without  a  saddle,  as  if 
grown  fast  to  the  animal,  and  go  at  full  gallop ; 
nor  would  she  spring  off,  even  if  her  horse  and 
other  ill-natured  ones  were  biting  each  other. 
Entirely  dressed  as  she  was,  she  would  cast 
herself  from  the  bank  into  the  strong  current 
of  the  fiord,  and  swim  out  to  meet  the  Yiking, 
when  his  boat  was  approaching  the  land.  01 
her  thick,  splendid  hair  she  had  cut  off  the 
longest  lock,  and  plaited  for  herself  a  string  to 
lier  bow. 

"  Self-made  is  well  made,"  she  said. 

The  Yiking's  wife,  according  to  the  manners 
and  customs  of  the  age  in  which  she  lived,  waa 
sti'ong  in  mind,  and  decided  in  purpose;  but 


35 


with  lier  daughter  she  was  like  a  soft,  timid 
woman.  She  was  well  aware  that  the  dread- 
ful child  was  under  the  influence  of  sorcery. 

And  Helga  apparently  took  a  malicioug 
pleasure  in  frightening  her  mother.  Often 
when  the  latter  was  standing  on  the  balcony 
or  walking  in  the  courtyard,  Helga  would 
place  herself  on  the  side  of  the  well,  throw  her 
arms  up  in  the  air,  and  then  let  herself  fall 
headlong  into  the  narrow,  deep  hole,  where, 
with  her  frog  nature,  she  would  duck  and  raise 
herself  up  again,  and  then  crawl  up  as  if  she 
had  been  a  cat,  and  run  dripping  of  water  into 
the  grand  saloon,  so  that  the  green  rushes 
which  were  strewed  over  the  floor  partook  ol 
the  wet  stream. 

There  was  but  one  restraint  upon  little 
Helga — that  was  the  evening  tmilight.  In  it 
she  became  quiet  and  thouofhtful — would  allow 
herself  to  be  called  and  guided  :  then,  too,  she 
would-  seem  to  feel  some  aflfection  for  her 
mother ;  and  when  the  sun  sank,  and  the  outer 
and  inward  change  took  place,  she  would  sit 
till  and  sorrowful,  shrivelled  up  into  the  form 
of  a  frog,  though  the  head  was  now  much 
larger  than  that  Kttle  animal's,  and  therefore 
«he  was  uglier  thai    ever:  she  looked  like  a 


36  THE   ilUD-jaNO's    DAUGHTEK. 


1 


miserable  dwarf,  with  a  frog's  head  and  webbed 
iingers.  There  was  something  very  sad  in  hei 
eyes;  voice  she  had  none,  except  a  kind  ol 
croak  like  a  child  sobbing  in  its  dreams.  Then 
would  the  Yiking's  wife  take  her  in  her  lap ; 
he  wonld  forget  the  ngly  form,  and  look  only 
at  the  melancholy  eyes ;  and  more  than  once 
she  exclaimed : 

"  I  conld  almost  wish  that  thou  wert  always 
my  dumb  fair^^-child,  for  thou  art  more  fearful 
to  look  at  when  thy  form  resumes  its  beauty." 

And  she  wrote  Runic  rhymes  against  en- 
chantment and  infirmity,  and  threw  them  over 
the  poor  creature ;  but  there  was  no  change  foi 
the  better. 

"  One  could  liardly  believe  that  she  was  once 
so  small  as  to  lie  in  the  calyx  of  a  water-lily," 
said  the  stork-father.  "  She  is  now  quite  a 
woman,  and  the  image  of  her  Egj^^tian  mother. 
Her,  alas !  we  have  never  seen  again.  She  did 
uot  take  good  care  of  herself,  as  thou  didst 
expect,  and  the  learned  people  predicted. 
Fear  after  year  I  have  flown  backwards  and 
or  wards  over  '  the  wild  morass,'  but  never 
ha  ve  I  seen  a  sign  of  her.  Yes,  I  can  assure 
thee,  during  the  years  we  have  been  coming  up 
here,  when  I  have  arrived  some  days  before 


THE   MUD-KLNGS    DAUGHTEE.  37 

thee,  that  I  might  mend  tlie  nest  and  set  every 
thinii:  ill  order  in  it,  I  have  for  a  whole  nialit 
flown,  as  if  I  had  been  an  owl  or  a  bat,  contiri- 
-ually  over  the  open  water,  but  to  no  purpose. 
NTo  have  had  no  use  either  for  the  two  swan 
disguises,  which  I  and  the  young  ones  dragged 
ill  the  way  up  here  from  the  banks  of  the  Nile. 
It  was  hard  enough  work,  and  it  took  us  three 
journeys  to  bring  them  up.  They  have  now 
lain  here  for  years  at  the  bottom  of  our  nest ; 
and  should  a  fire  by  any  chance  brealv  out,  and 
the  Yiking's  house  be  bm'ned  dovni,  they  would 
be  lost." 

"  And  our  good  nest  would  be  lost,"  said  the 
old  female  stork ;  "  but  thou  thinkest  less  of 
that  than  of  these  feather  things  and  thy  bog 
princess.  Thou  hadst  better  go  down  to  her 
at  once,  and  remain  in  the  mire.  Thou  art  a 
hard-hearted  father  to  thine  own :  that  I  have 
said  since  I  laid  my  first  eggs.  What  if  I  or 
one  of  our  young  ones  should  get  an  aiTow 
\mder  our  wmgs  from  that  fierce  crazy  brat  at 
the  Yikmg's  ?  She  does  not  care  what  slie 
does.  This  has  been  much  longer  our  home 
than  hers,  she  ought  to  recollect.  We  do  not 
Vorget  our  duty ;  we  pay  our  rent  every  year — 
a  feather,  an   egg,  and  a  young  one — as  we 


38  THE   MUD-KmO  S    DAUGHTER. 

onght  to  do.  Dost  thou  think  that  when  sk4 
is  oulside  I  can  venture  to  go  below,  as  in 
former  days,  or  as  I  do  in  Egypt,  where  I  am 
almost  everybody's  comrade,  not  to  mentioii 
til  at  I  can  there  even  peep  into  the  pots  and 
pans  without  any  fear  ?  No  ;  I  sit  up  here  and 
fret  myself  about  her---the  hussy !  and  T  fret 
myself  at  thee  too.  Thou  shouldst  have  left 
her  lying  in  the  water-lily,  and  there  would 
have  been  an  end  of  her." 

"  Thy  words  are  much  harder  than  thy 
heart,"  said  the  stork-father.  "I  know  thee 
better  than  thou  knowest  thyself." 

And  then  he  made  a  hop,  flapped  his  wings 
twice,  stretched  his  legs  out  behind  him,  and 
away  he  flew,  or  rather  sailed,  without  moving 
his  wings,  until  he  had  got  to  some  distance. 
Then  he  brought  his  wings  into  play :  +h.e  sua 
shone  upon  his  white  feathers ;  he  stretched 
his  head  and  his  neck  forward,  and  hastened 
on  his  way. 

"  He  is,  nevertheless,  still  the  handsomest  o 
them  all,"  said  his  admiring  mate;  "but  I  will 
not  tell  him  that." 

Late  that  autumn  the  Yiking  returned  home, 
bringing  with  him  booty  and  prisoners.  Among 


89 


these  was  a  young  Cliristian  priest,  one  of  tlie 
men  wlio  denounced  the  gods  of  the  northera 
mythology.  Often,  about  this  time,  was  the 
new  religion  tallied  of  in  baronial  halls  and 
ladies'  bowers — the  religion  that  was  s]^*ead 
ing  over  all  lands  of  the  south,  and  which,  with 
the  holy  Ansgarius,^  had  even  reached  as  far 
as  Hedeby.  Even  little  Helga  had  heard  ol 
the  pm-e  religion  of  Christ,  who,  from  love  to 

*  Ansgarius  was  originally  a  monk  from  the  monastery 
of  New  Corbie,  in  Saxony,  to  which  several  of  the  monks 
of  Corbie  in  France  had  migrated  in  A.  d.  822.  Its  abbot, 
Paschasius  Radbert,  who  died  in  865,  was,  according  to 
Cardinal  Bellarmine,  the  first  fully  to  propagate  the  belief, 
now  entertained  in  the  Roman-cathoUc  Church,  of  the 
corporeal  presence  of  the  Saviour  in  the  sacrament.  Ans- 
garius, who  was  very  enthusiastic,  accepted  a  mission  to 
the  north  of  Europe,  and  preached  Christianity  in  Den- 
mark and  Sweden.  Jutland  was  for  some  time  the  sceno 
cf  his  labors,  and  he  made  many  converts  there ;  also  in 
Sleswig,  where  a  Christian  school  for  children  was  estab- 
lished,  who,  on  leaving  it,  were  sent  to  spread  Christiani  ty 
throughout  the  country.  An  archbishopric  was  founded  by 
tlio  then  Emperor  of  Germany  in  conformity  to  a  ])]an 
*7hich  had  been  traced,  though  not  carried  out,  by  Charle- 
enagne  ;  and  this  was  bestowed  upon  Ansgarius.  But  the 
church  he  had  built  was  burnt  by  some  still  heathen 
Danes,  who,  gathering  a  large  fleet,  invaded  Hamburg, 
which  they  also  reduced  to  ashes.  The  Emperor  theo 
oij.'ititutcd  him  Biahop  of  Bremen. — Trans. 


40  THE    mud-king's    DAUGHTER. 

mankind,  had  given  himself  as  a  sacrifice  to 
save  them  ;  but  with  her  it  went  in  at  one  ear 
and  out  at  the  other,  to  use  a  common  saying 
riie  word  lave  alone  seemed  to  have  made. 
S(jme  impression  upon  her,  when  she  shrunk 
into  the  miserable  fonn  of  a  frog:  in  the  closed 
up  chamber.  But  the  Yiking's  wife  had  lis 
tened  to,  and  felt  herself  wonderfully  aifected 
by,  the  rumor  and  the  Saga  about  the  Son  of 
the  one  only  true  God. 

The  men,  returning  from  their  expedition, 
had  told  of  the  splendid  temples  of  costly  hewn 
stone  raised  to  Him  whose  errand  was  love.  A 
pair  of  heavy  golden  vessels,  beautifully  wrought 
out  of  pure  gold,  were  brought  home,  and  both 
had  a  charming,  spicy  perfume.  They  wero 
the  censers  which  the  Christian  priests  swung 
before  the  altars,  on  which  blood  never  flowed ; 
but  w^ine  and  the  consecrated  bread  were 
r.hanged  into  the  blood  of  Him  who  had  given 
himself  for  generations  yet  unborn. 

To  the  deep,  stone- walled  cellars  of  the  Yi 
king's  log-house  was  the  young  captive,  th 
Christian  priest,  consigned,  fettered  w^ith  cords 
round  his  feet  and  his  hands.  He  was  as  beafi.- 
tiful  as  Baldur  to  look  at,  said  the  Yi  king's 
wife,    and   she  was   grieved    a^t  his   into ;  hu* 


THE    MHQKINO  8    DAUGHTEE.  41 

young  Ilelga  wished  that  he  should  be  ham- 
strung, and  bound  to  the  tails  of  wild  oxen. 

"  Then  I  should  let  loose  the  dogs.  Halloo ! 
llien  awaj  over  bogs  and  pools  to  the  naked 
neath.  Hah  !  that  would  be  something  pleas- 
ant to  see — still  pleasanter  to  follow  him  on  the 
wild  journey." 

But  the  Yiking  would  not  hear  of  his  being 
put  to  such  a  death.  On  the  morrow,  as  a 
scoffer  and  denier  of  the  high  gods,  he  was  to 
be  offered  up  as  a  sacrifice  to  them  upon  the 
blood-stone  in  the  sacred  grove.  He  was  to 
be  the  first  human  sacrifice  ever  offered  up 
there. 

Young  Helga  prayed  that  she  might  be  al- 
lowed to  sprinkle  with  the  blood  of  the  captive 
the  images  of  the  gods  and  the  assembled  spec- 
tators. She  sharpened  her  gleaming  knife,  and, 
as  one  of  the  large  ferocious  dogs,  of  which 
there  were  plenty  in  the  court-yard,  leaped 
over  her  feet,  she  stuck  the  knife  into  liia 
side. 

"That  is  to  prove  the  blade,"  she  ex- 
claimed. 

And  the  Yiking's  wife  was  shocked  at  the 
savage-tempered,  evil-minded  girl;  and  when 
night  came,  and  the  beauteous  form  and  dispo 


42 


Bition  of  her  daughter  changed,  she  ])oured 
forth  her  sorrow  to  her  in  warm  words,  which 
came  from  the  bottom  of  her  heart. 

The  hideous  frog  with  the  ogre  head  stood 
before  her,  and  fixed  its  brown  sad  ejes  upon 
her,  listened,  and  seemed  to  understand  with  a 
human  being's  intellect. 

"Never,  even  to  mj  husband,  have  I  hinted 
at  the  double  sufferings  I  have  through  you,'' 
said  the  Yiking's  wife.  "  There  is  more  sorrow 
in  my  heart  on  your  account  than  I  could  have 
believed.  Great  is  a  mother's  love.  But  love 
never  enters  your  mind.  Your  heart  is  like  a 
lump  of  cold  hard  mud.  From  whence  did  you 
come  to  my  house  ?" 

Then  the  ugly  shape  trembled  violently ;  it 
seemed  as  if  these  words  touched  an  invisible 
tie  between  the  body  and  the  soul — large  tears 
started  to  its  eyes. 

"  Your  time  of  trouble  will  come  some  day 
depend  on  it,"  said  the  Yiking's  wife,  "  and 
dreadful  will  it  also  be  for  me.  Better  had  it 
been  liad  you  been  put  out  on  the  highway,  and 
the  chilliness  of  the  night  had  benumbed  you 
until  you  slept  in  death;"  and  the  Yiking's 
wife  w^ept  salt  tears,  and  went  angry  and  dis- 
tressed away,  passing  round  behind  the  loose 


43 


skin  partition  that  himg  over  an  upper  Leaiu 
to  divide  the  chamber. 

Alone  in  a  coiTier  sat  tlie  shrivelled  fi'og 
Slie  was  mute,  but  after  a  short  interval  she 
littered  a  sort  of  lialf-suppressed  sigh.  It  waa 
as  if  in  sorrow  a  new  life  had  aAvoke  in  some 
nook  of  her  heart.  She  took  a  step  forward, 
listened,  advanced  again,  and  grasping  with 
her  awkward  hands  the  heavy  bar  that  waa 
placed  across  the  door,  she  removed  it  softly 
and  quietly  drew  away  the  pin  that  was  stuck 
in  over  the  latch.  She  then  seized  the  lighted 
lamp  that  stood  in  the  room  beyond :  it  seemed 
as  if  a  great  resolution  had  given  her  strength. 
She  made  her  way  down  to  the  dungeon,  drew 
back  the  iron  bolt  that  fastened  the  trap-door, 
and  slid  down  to  where  the  prisoner  was  lying 
He  was  sleeping.  She  touched  him  with  her 
cold,  clammy  hand ;  and  when  he  awoke,  and 
beheld  the  disgusting  creature,  he  shuddered  a-a 
if  he  had  seen  an  evil  apparition.  She  drew 
hei  knife,  severed  his  bonds,  and  beckoned  to 
him  to  follow  her. 

He  named  holy  names,  made  the  sign  of  the 
cross,  and  when  the  strange  shape  stood  ^  itl> 
out  moving,  he  exclaimed,  in  the  words  oi  the 
Bible,— 


,44  THE    MLb  KLNG's    DAUGHTER. 

"  *•  Blesfred  is  lie  that  considereth  the  poor : 
the  Lord  will  deliver  him  in  time  of  trouble.^ 
Who  art  thou  ?  IIow  comes  it  that,  under  the 
exterior  of  such  an  animal,  there  is  so  much 
'compassionate  feeling  ?" 

The  frog  beckoned  to  him,  and  led  him,  be- 
lind  tapestry  that  concealed  him,  through  pri- 
vate passages  out  to  the  stables,  and  pointed  tc 
a  horse.  He  spi-ang  on  it,  and  she  also  jumped 
up ;  and,  placing  herself  before  him,  she  held 
by  the  animal's  mane.  The  prisoner  under- 
stood her  movement ;  and  at  full  gallop  they 
rode,  by  a  path  he  never  could  have  found, 
away  to  the  open  heath. 

He  forgot  her  ugly  form — he  knew  that  the 
grace  and  mercy  of  God  could  be  evinced  even 
by  means  of  hobgoblins — he  put  up  earnest 
prayers,  and  sang  holy  hymns.  She  trembled. 
Was  it  the  power  of  the  prayers  and  hymna 
that  affected  her  thus  ?  or  was  it  a  cold  shiver- 
ing at  the  approach  of  morning,  that  was  about 
to  dawn?  What  was  it  that  she  felt?  She 
raised  herself  up  into  the  air,  attempted  to  stop 
the  horse,  and  was  on  the  point  of  leaping 
down;  but  the  Christian  priest  held  her  fast 
with  all  his  might,  and  chanted  a  psalm,  which 
he  thought  would  liave  sufficient  strength  to 


THE  MUD-KINGS   DAUGHTER.  45 

Dvercome  the  influence  of  the  witchcraft  under 
which  she  was  kept  in  the  hideous  disguise  oi 
a  /rog.  And  the  horse  dashed  more  wildly  for- 
ward, the  heavens  became  red,  the  first  rays  ol 
the  sun  burst  forth  through  the  morning  skj, 
nd  with  that  clear  gush  of  light  came  the 
miraculous  change — she  was  the  young  beauty, 
with  the  cruel,  demoniacal  spint.  The  aston- 
ished priest  held  the  loveliest  maiden  in  his 
arms  he  had  ever  beheld ;  but  he  was  horror- 
struck,  and,  springing  from  the  horse,  he  stop- 
ped it,  expecting  to  see  it  also  the  ^actim  t'* 
some  fearful  sorceiy.  Young  Helga  sprang  at 
the  same  moment  to  the  ground,  her  short, 
childlike  dress  reaching  no  lower  than  her 
knees.  Suddenly  she  drew  her  sharp  knife 
from  her  belt,  and  rushed  furiously  upon  him. 

"  Let  me  but  reach  thee — let  me  but  reach 
thee,  and  my  knife  shall  find  its  way  to  thy 
heart.  Thou  art  pale  in  thy  terror,  beardless 
slave !" 

She  closed  with  him ;  a  severe  struggle  en 
sued,  but  it  seemed  as  if  some  invincible  power 
bestowed  strength  upon  the  Christian  priest. 
He  held  her  fast ;  and  the  old  oak-tree  close  by 
came  to  his  assistance  by  binding  down  her 
Teet  with  its  roots,  which  were  half  loosened 


46  THE  MUD-KING^8   DAUGHTEB. 


1 


from  the  earth,  her  feet  having  slid  undei 
them.  Tliere  was  a  fountain  near,  and  he 
splashed  the  clear,  fresh  water  over  her  face 
and  neck,  commanding  the  imclean  spirit  to 
pass  out  of  her,  and  signed  her  according  to 
the  Cliristain  rites;  but  the  baptismal  watei 
had  no  power  where  the  fountain  of  belief  had 
not  streamed  upon  the  heart. 

Yet  still  he  was  the  victor.  Yes,  more  than 
human  strength  could  have  accomplished 
against  the  powers  of  evil  lay  in  his  acts,  which, 
as  it  were,  overpowered  her.  She  suffered  her 
arms  to  sink,  and  gazed  with  wondering  looks 
and  blanched  cheeks  upon  the  man  whom  she 
deemed  some  mighty  wizard,  strong  in  sorcery 
and  the  black  art.  These  were  mystic  Ehun^a 
he  had  recited,  and  magic  characters  he  had 
traced  in  the  air.  ISTot  for  the  glancing  axe  or 
the  well-sharpened  knife,  if  he  had  brandished 
these  before  her  eyes,  would  they  have  blinked, 
)v  would  she  have  winced ;  but  she  winced  now 
when  he  made  the  sign  of  the  cross  upon  her 
brow  and  bosom,  and  she  stood  new  like  a  tame 
bird,  her  head  bowed  down  upon  her  breast. 

Then  he  spoke  kindly  to  her  of  the  work  ot 
mercy  she  had  performed  towards  him  that 
figlit,  when,  in  the  ugly  disguise  of  a  frog,  she 


47 


had  come  to  him,  liad  loosened  his  bonds,  and 
brought  him  forth  to  light  and  life.  She  also 
was  bound — ^bound  even  with  stronger  fetters 
than  he  had  been,  he  said ;  but  she  also  should 
be  set  fi'ee,  and  like  him  attain  to  light  and 
life.  He  would  take  her  to  Hedebj,  to  tht 
holy  Ansgarius.  There,  in  the  Christian  city, 
the  witchcraft  in  which  she  was  held  would  be 
exorcised ;  but  not  before  him  must  she  sit  on 
horseback,  even  if  she  wished  it  herself — he 
dared  not  place  her  there. 

"  Thou  must  sit  behind  me  on  the  horse,  not 
before  me.  Thine  enchanting  beauty  has  a 
magic  power  bestowed  by  the  evil  one.  I  fear 
it ;  and  yet  the  victory  shall  be  mine  through 
Christ.^' 

He  knelt  down  and  prayed  fervently.  It 
seemed  as  if  the  surrounding  wood  had  been 
consecrated  into  a  holy  temple ;  the  birds  be- 
gan to  sing,  as  if  they  belonged  to  tlfe  new  con 
gregation;  the  wild  thjTue  sent  forth  its  fi-a- 
grant  scent,  as  if  to  take  the  place  of  incense 
while  the  priest  proclaimed  these  Bible  words  .• 
"To  give  light  to  them  that  sit  in  darkness, 
and  in  the  shadow  of  death ;  to  guide  our  feet 
into  the  way  of  peace." 

And  he  spoke  of  everlasting  life ;  and  as  h* 


48 


discoursed,  the  horse  which  had  carried  them  in 
their  wild  flight  stood  still,  and  pulled  at  the 
large  bramble  berries,  so  that  the  ripest  ones 
fell  on  little  Helga's  hand,  inviting  her  to  pluc> 
them  for  herself. 

She  allowed  herself  patiently  to  be  liftea 
upon  tlie  horse,  and  she  sat  on  his  back  like  a 
somnambulist,  who  was  neither  in  a  waking 
nor  a  sleeping  state.  The  Christian  priest  tied 
two  small  green  branches  together  in  the  form 
of  a  cross,  which  he  held  high  aloft ;  and  thus 
they  rode  through  the  forest,  which  became 
thicker  and  thicker,  and  the  path,  if  path  it 
could  be  called,  taking  them  further  into  it. 
The  blackthorn  stood  as  if  to  bar  their  way,  and 
they  had  to  ride  round  outside  of  it ;  the  trick- 
ling streams  swelled  no  longer  into  mere  rivu- 
lets, but  into  stagnant  pools,  and  they  had  to  ride 
round  them ;  but  as  the  soft  wind  that  played 
among  the*foliage  of  the  trees  was  refi*eshing 
and  strengthening  to  the  travellers,  so  the  mild 
words  that  were  spoken  in  Christian  charit} 
and  truth  served  to  lead  the  benighted  one  t- 
light  and  life. 

It  is  said  that  a  constant  dripping  of  water 
A  ill  make  a  hollow  in  the  hardest  stone,  and 
that  the  waves  of  the  sea  will  in  time  round 


THE   MCD  KDfG's    DAUGHTEK.  49 

{"he  edges  of  the  sharpest  rocks.  The  dew  of 
gjrace  which  fell  for  little  Helga  softened  the 
hard,  and  smoothed  the  sharp,  in  her  nature. 
True,  it  was  not  discernible  jet  in  her,  nor  was 
Bhe  aware  of  it  herself.  What  knows  the  seed 
in  the  ground  of  the  effect  which  the  refreshing 
dew  and  the  warm  sunbeams  are  to  have  in 
producing  from  it  vegetation  and  flow^ei*s  ?    - 

As  a  mother's  song  to  her  child,  unmarked, 
makes  an  impression  upon  its  infant  mind,  and 
it  prattles  after  her  several  of  the  words  without 
understanding  them,  but  in  time  these  words 
arrange  themselves  into  order,  and  thej  become 
clearer,  so  in  the  case  of  Helga  worked  t/iai 
word  w^hich  is  mighty  to  save. 

They  rode  out  of  the  forest,  and  crossed  an 
open  heath ;  then  again  they  entered  a  pathless 
wood,  where,  towards  evening,  they  encounter- 
ed a  band  of  robbers. 

"Whence  didst  thou  steal  that  beautiful 
wench?"  they  shouted,  as  they  stopped  the 
horse  and  dragged  its  two  riders  down ;  for 
they  were  strong  and  robust  men.  The  priest 
had  no  other  weapon  than  the  knife  which  he 
had  taken  from  little  Helga.  With  that  he 
now  stood  on  his  defence.  One  of  the  robbeis 
swung  his  ponderous  axe,  but  the  young  Chris- 


50  THE   MUD-KESrG's   DAUGHTER. 

tian  fortunately  sprang  aside  in  time  to  avoid  the 
blow,  which  then  fell  on  the  unfortunate  horsej 
and  the  shai-p  edge  entered  into  its  neck  ;  blood 
streamed  from  the  wound,  and  the  poor  animal 
fell  to  the  ground.  Helga,  who  had  only  at 
that  moment  awoke  from  her  long,  deep  trance, 
sprang  forward,  and  cast  herself  over  the  gasp- 
ing creature.  The  Christian  priest  placed  him- 
self before  her  as  a  shield  and  protection  from 
the  lawless  men ;  but  one  of  them  struck  him 
on  the  forehead  with  an  iron  hammer,  so  that 
it  was  dashed  in,  and  the  blood  and  braina 
gushed  forth,  while  he  fell  down  dead  on  the 
spot. 

The  robbers  seized  Helga  by  her  white  ai'ms ; 
but  at  that  moment  the  sun  went  down,  its  last 
beam  faded  away,  and  she  was  transformed  into 
a  hideous-looking  frog.  The  pale  green  mouth 
stretched  itself  over  half  the  face,  its  arms 
became  thin  and  slimy,  and  a  broad  hand,  with 
webbed-like  membranes,  extended  itself  like  a 
fan.  Then  the  robbers  withdrew  their  hold  oi 
her  in  terror  and  astonishment.  She  stood 
like  the  ugly  animal  among  them,  and,  accord- 
ing to  the  nature  of  a  frog,  she  began  to  hop 
about,  and,  jumping  faster  than  usual,  she  soon 
escaped  into  the  depths  of  the  thicket.     The 


51 


robbers  were  then  convinced  that  it  was  some 
evil  artifice  of  the  mischief-loving  Loke.  or  else 
some  secret  magical  deception  ;  and  in  dismay 
they  fled  from  the  place. 

The  full  moon  had  risen,  and  its  silver  light 
penetrated  even  the  gloomy  recesses  of  the 
forest,  when  from  among  the  low  thick  brush^ 
wood,  in  the  frog's  hideous  form,  crept  the 
young  Helga.  She  stopped  w^hen  she  reached 
the  bodies  of  the  Christian  priest  and  the 
slaughtered  horse;  she  gazed  on  tliem  with 
eyes  that  seemed  full  of  tears,  and  the  frog 
uttered  a  sound  that  somew^hat  resembled  the 
sob  of  a  child  who  was  on  the  point  of  crying. 
She  threw  herself  first  over  the  one,  then  over 
the  other ;  then  took  water  up  in  her  webbed 
hand,  and  poured  it  over  them ;  but  all  was  in. 
vain — they  were  dead,  and  dead  they  w^ould 
remain.  She  knew  that.  Wild  beasts  would 
soon  come  and  devour  their  bodies,  l^o,  that 
must  not  be ;  therefore  she  determined  to  dig  a 
grave  in  the  ground  for  them,  but  she  had 
nothing  to  dig  it  with  except  the  branch  of  a 
tree  and  both  her  own  hands.  With  these  she 
worked  away  until  her  fingers  bled.  She 
found    she    made   so  little   pi'ogress.   tluxt   she 


52 


feared  the  work  would  never  be  ermiplcted. 
■jiieu  sne  tooK  water,  and  washed  tlie  dead 
man's  face;  covered  it  with  fresh  green  leaves; 
brought  large  bonghs  of  the  trees,  and  laid 
them  over  him ;  sprinkled  dead  leaves  araongsl 
the  branches;  fetched  the  largest  stones  she 
could  carry,  and  placed  them  over  the  bodies. 
and  filled  up  the  openings  with  moss.  Whei> 
she  had  done  all  this  she  thought  that  thei> 
tomb  might  be  strong  and  safe ;  but  during  he; 
long  and  arduous  labor  the  night  had  passed 
away.  The  sun  arose,  and  young  Helga  stood 
again  in  all  her  beauty,  with  bloody  hands, 
and,  for  the  first  time,  with  tears  on  her  bloom- 
ing cheeks. 

During  this  change  it  seemed  as  if  two  na- 
tures were  wrestling  within  her ;  she  trembled, 
looked  around  her  as  if  awakening  from  a  pain- 
ful dream,  then  seized  u|)on  the  slender  branch 
of  a  tree  near,  and  held  fast  by  it  as  if  for  sup- 
port ;  and  in  another  moment  she  climbed  like 
a  cat  up  to  the  top  of  the  tree,  and  placed  her- 
eelf  firmly  there.  For  a  whole  long  day  she 
Bat  there  like  a  frightened  scpiirrel  in  the  deep 
loneliness  of  the  forest,  where  all  is  still  and 
dead,  people  say.  Dead  !  There  flew  by  bll^ 
terflies  chashig  each  otlier  either  in  sport  or  \c 


THE   MUD-KLNG^S    DAUGHTER.  58 

Btrife.  There  were  ant-hills  near,  each  covered 
with  hundreds  of  little  busy  laborers,  passing 
in  swarms  to  and  fro.  In  the  air  danced  innu- 
nzerable  gnats;  crowds  of  buzzing  flies  swept 
past ;  lady-birds,  dragon-flies,  and  other  winged 
ii]  sects,  floated  hither  and  thither ;  earth-worms 
crept  forth  from  the  damp  ground;  moles 
crawled  about;  otherwise  it  was  still — dead^ 
as  people  say  and  think. 

None  remarked  Helga,  except  the  jays  that 
flew  screeching  to  the  top  of  the  tree  where  she 
sat ;  they  hopped  on  the  branches  around  her 
with  impudent  curiosity,  but  there  was  some 
thing  in  the  glance  of  her  eye  that  speedily 
drove  them  away ;  they  were  none  the  wiser 
about  her,  nor,  indeed,  was  she  about  herself. 
When  th-e  evening  approached,  and  the  sun 
began  to  sink,  the  transformation  time  rendered 
a  change  of  position*  necessary.  She  shpped 
down  the  tree,  and,  as  the  last  ray  of  the  s"'in 
faded  away,  she  was  again  the  shrivelled  frog, 
with  the  webbed-tingered  hands ;  but  her  eyes 
beamed  now  w^ith  a  charming  expression, 
which  they  had  not  worn  in  the  beautiful 
form ;  they  were  the  mildest,  sweetest,  girlish 
eyes  that  glanced  from  behind  the  mask  of  a 
frog — they  bore  witness  to  the  deeply-thuiking 


54  THE  MUD-KING'S   DAUGHTEK. 

luiman  mmd,  the  deeply-feeling  human  heart ; 
and  these  lovely  eyes  burst  mto  tears — tears  ol 
unfeigned  sorrow. 

Close  to  the  lately  raised  grave  lay  the  crost 
of  green  boughs  that  had  been  tied  together — 
the  last  work  of  him  who  was  now  dead  and 
gone.  Ilelga  took  it  up,  and  the  thought  pre- 
sented itself  to  lier  that  it  would  be  well  to 
place  it  amidst  the  stones,  above  him  and  the 
slaughtered  horse.  With  the  sad  remem- 
brances thus  awakened,  her  tears  flowed  faster ; 
and  in  the  fuhiess  of  her  heart  she  scratched 
the  same  sign  in  the  earth  round  the  grave — it 
would  be  a  fence  that  would  decorate  it  so 
well.  And  just  as  she  was  forming,  wdth  both 
of  her  hands,  the  figure  of  the  cross,  her  magic 
disguise  fell  off  like  a  torn  glove ;  and  when 
she  had  washed  herself  in  the  clear  water  ot 
the  fountain  near,  and  m  amazement  looked  at 
her  delicate  w^hite  hands,  she  made  the  sign  ol 
the  cross  between  herself  and  the  dead  pi'iest ; 
then  her  lips  moved,  then  her  tongue  was 
loosened ;  and  that  name  which  so  often,  dm*- 
ing  the  ride  through  the  forest,  she  had  heai'd 
spoken  and  chanted,  became  audible  from  her 
mouth — she  exclaimed:  "Jesus  Christ  I" 

When  the  frog's  skin  had  fallen  otf  she  was 


5S 


again  tlie  beautiful  maiden ;  but  ber  bead 
drooped  beavily,  ber  limbs  seemed  to  need 
repose — sbe  slept. 

Her  sleep  was  only  a  short  one,  bowever ;  sbe 
awoke  about  midnigbt,  and  before  ber  stood 
tlie  dead  horse  full  of  life ;  its  eyes  glittered 
and  liglit  seemed  to  proceed  from  tbe  wound  in 
its  neck.  Close  to  it  tbe  dead  Christian  priest 
shewed  biraself — "more  beautifid  than  Bal- 
dur,"  tbe  Yiking's  wife  would  have  said ;  and 
yet  be  came  as  a  flash  of  fire. 

There  was  an  earnestness  in  bis  large,  mild 
eyes,  a  searching,  penetrating  look — grave, 
almost  stern — that  thrilled  the  young  prose- 
lyte to  tbe  utmost  depths  of  ber  heart.  Helga 
trembled  before  him ;  and  her  memory  awoke 
as  if  with  the  power  it  world  exercise  on  the 
great  day  of  doom.  All  tbe  kindness  that  bad 
been  bestowed  on  her,  every  affectionate  word 
that  bad  been  said  to  her,  came  back  to  her 
mind  with  an  impression  deeper  than  they  had 
erer  before  made.  Sbe  understood  that  it  was 
love  that,  dm-ing  the  days  of  trial  here,  had 
supported  her — those  days  of  trial  in  which  the 
offspring  of  a  being  with  a  soul,  and  a  form  of 
mud,  had  wi'ithed  and  stmggled.  She  under* 
Ptood  that  she  had  only  followed  tbe  prompt 


56 


nigs  of  her  own  disposition,  and  done  notliing 
to  help  herself.  All  had  \)een  bestowed  on  her 
— all  had  been  ordained  for  lier.  She  bowed 
herself  in  lovvlj  humility  and  slianie  before 
Ilim  who  must  be  able  to  read  every  thought 
of  the  heart ;  and  at  that  moment  she  felt  as  ii 
a  purifying  flame  darted  through  her — a  light 
from  the  Holy  Spirit. 

"  Daughter  of  the  dust !"  said  the  Christian 
priest,  "  from  dust,  from  earth  hast  tliou  arisen 
— from  earth  shalt  thou  again  arise !  A  ray 
from  God's  in^dsible  sun  shall  stream  on  thee. 
No  soul  shall  be  lost.  But  far  off  is  the  time 
when  life  takes  flight  into  eternity.  I  come 
from  the  land  of  the  dead.  Thou  also  shalt 
once  pass  through  the  dark  valley  into  yon 
lofty  realms  of  brightness,  where  grace  and  per- 
fection dwell.  I  shall  not  guide  thee  now  to 
Hedeby  for  Christian  baptism.  First  must 
thou.  dis})erse  the  slimy  surface  over  the  deep 
morass,  draw  up  the  living  root  of  thy  life  and 
thy  cradle,  and  perform  thy  appointed  task,  ero 
thou  darest  to  seek  the  holy  rite." 

And  he  lifted  her  up  on  the  horse,  and  gave 
her  a  golden  censer  like  those  she  liad  formerly 
Been  at  the  Yiking's  castle;  and  strong  waa 
the  perfmne  which  issued  frc  m  it.     The  open 


57 


wound  on  tlie  forehead  of  the  murdered  man 
shone  like  a  diadem  of  brilliants.  He  took  the 
cross  fi'om  the  grave,  and  raised  it  high  abov 
him;  then  away  they  went  through  the  air, 
away  over  the  rustling  woods,  away  over  the 
mountains  whei^e  the  giant  heroes  are  buried, 
sitting  on  the  slaughtered  steed.  Still  onward 
the  phantom  forms  pursued  their  way  ;  and  in 
the  clear  mooulight  glittered  the  gold  circlet 
round  their  trows,  and  the  mantle  Huttered  in 
the  breeze.  The  magic  dragon,  who  was  watch- 
ing over  his  treasures,  raised  his  head  and  gazed 
at  them.  The  hill-dwarfs  peeped  out  from 
their  mountain  recesses  and  plough-furrows. 
There  were  swarms  of  them,  with  red,  blue, 
and  green  lights,  that  looked  like  the  numer- 
ous sparks  in  the  ashes  of  newdy-burned  paper. 
Away  over  forest  and  heath,  over  limpid 
streams  and  stagnant  pools,  they  hastened  to- 
wards the  *'  wild  morass,"  and  over  it  they  flew 
in  wide  circles.  The  Christian  priest  held  aloft 
the  cross,  which  looked  as  dazzling  as  bm-nished 
gold,  and  as  he  did  so  he  chanted  the  mass 
hymns.  Little  Helga  sang  with  him  as  a  child 
follows  its  mother's  song.  She  swung  the  cen- 
ser about  as  if  before  the  altar,  and  there  came 
a  perfume  so  strong,  so  powerful  in  its  ciTect, 


58  THE   mud-king's   DACGnTEB. 


^ 


that  it  caused  the  reeds  and  sedges  to  blossom 
every  sprout  shot  up  from  the  dee])  bottom—- 
every  thing  that  had  life  raised  itself  up ;  and 
with  the  rest  arose  a  mass  of  water-lilies,  whicl» 
looked  like  a  carpet  of  embroidered  flowers 
Upon  it  lay  a  sleeping  female,  young  and  beau 
tiful.  Helga  thought  she  beheld  herself  mir- 
rored in  the  calm  water ;  but  it  was  her  mother 
whom  she  saw — the  mud-king's  wife — the  prin- 
cess from  the  banks  of  the  Nile. 

The  dead  Christian  priest  prayed  that  the 
sleeper  might  be  lifted  upon  the  horse.  At 
fii'st  the  latter  sank  under  the  additional  bur- 
den, as  if  its  body  were  but  a  winding-sheet 
fluttering  in  the  wind ;  but  the  sign  of  the  cross 
gave  strength  to  the  airy  phantom,  and  all 
three  rode  on  it  to  the  solid  ground. 

Then  crowed. the  cock  at  the  Yiking's  castle, 
and  the  apparitions  seemed  to  disappear  in  a 
aiist,  which  was  wafted  away  by  the  wind ;  but 
the  mother  and  daughter  stood  together 

"  Is  that  m^^self  I  behold  in  the  deep  water  V 
exclaimed  the  mother. 

"Is  that  myself  I  see  on  the  shining  sur 
face  ?"  said  the  daughter. 

And  they  approached  each  other  till  form 
met  form  in  a  warm  embrace,  and  wildly  the 


THE   MUD-KENG's   DAUGHTER.  69 

mother's  heart  beat  when   she  perceived   the 
truth. 

"  Mj  child  !  my  heart's  own  flower !  my  lo- 
tus from  the  watery  deep  !" 

And  she  encircled  her  daughter  with  hei 
arm,  and  wept.  Her  tears  caused  a  new  sensa- 
tion to  Helga — they  were  the  baptism  of  love 
for  her. 

"  I  came  hither  in  the  magic  disguise  of  a 
swan,  and  I  threw  it  off,"  said  the  mother.  "  I 
sank  through  the  swaying  mire  deep  into  the 
mud  of  the  morass,  which,  like  a  wall,  closed 
around  me ;  but  soon  I  perceived  that  I  was  in 
a  fresher  stream — some  power  drew  me  deeper 
and  still  deeper  down.  I  felt  my  eyelids  heavy 
with  sleep — I  slumbered  and  I  dreamed.  I 
thought  that  I  was  again  in  the  interior  of  the 
Eg}^tian  pyramid,  but  before  me  still  stood 
the  heaving  alder  trunk  that  had  so  terrified 
me  on  the  surface  of  the  morass.  I  saw  the 
cracks  in  the  bark,  and  they  chariged  their  ap 
pearance,  and  became  hieroglyphics.  It  was 
the  mummy's  coffin  I  was  looking  at ;  it  burst 
open,  and  out  issued  fi-om  it  the  monarch  of  a 
thousand  years  ago — the  mummy  form,  black 
as  pitch,  dark  and  shining  as  a  wood- snail,  or  as 
that  thick  slimy  mud.     It  was  the  iniid-kin^, 


60  THE   mod-king's   DAUGHTER. 

or  the  mummy  of  the  pji-amids ;  I  knew  not 
which.  He  threw  his  arms  around  me,  and  I 
felt  as  if  I  were  dying.  I  only  felt  that  I  was 
alive  again  when  I  found  something  warm  on 
my  breast,  and  there  a  little  bird  was  flapping 
with  its  wings,  twittering  and  singing.  It  flew 
from  my  breast  high  up  in  the  dark,  heavy 
space ;  but  a  long  green  string  bound  it  still  to 
me.  I  heard  and  I  comprehended  its  ton  en 
and  its  longing :  '  Freedom  !  Sunshine  !  To 
the  father !'  Then  I  thought  of  my  father  iu 
my  distant  home,  that  dear  sunny  land — my 
life,  my  affection — and  I  loosened  the  cord,  and 
let  it  flutter  away  home  to  my  father.  Since 
that  hour  I  have  not  dreamed.  I  have  slept  a 
long,  dark,  heavy  sleep  until  now,  when  the 
strange  sounds  and  perfume  awoke  me  and  set 
me  free." 

That  green  tie  between  the  mother's  heart 
and  the  bird's  wings,  where  now  did  it  flutter  t 
what  now  had  become  of  it  ?  The  stork  alone 
had  seen  it.  The  cord  was  the  green  stem; 
the  knot  was  the  shining  flower-  -the  cradle  for 
that  child  who  now  had  grown  up  in  beauty, 
and  again  rested  near  her  mother's  heart. 

And  as  they  stood  there  embracing  each  othei 
the  stork-father  flew  in  circles  round  them,  hag 


THE    MUI>-K1XG's    DALGHTEE.  61 

tened  back  to  liis  nest,  took  from  it  tlie  magic 

feather  disguises  that  had  been  hidden  away 

for  so  many  years,  cast  one  down  before  each  oi 

hem,  and  then  joined  them,  as  they  raised  them 

elves  from  the  ground  like  two  white  swans. 

"  Let  ns  now  have  some  chat,"  said  the  stork 
father,  "  now  we  understand  each  other's  lan- 
guage, even  though  one  bird's  beak  is  not  ex- 
actly made  after  the  pattern  of  another's.  It  is 
most  fortunate  that  vou  came  to-nio^ht:  ta 
morrow  we  should  all  have  been  away — the 
mother,  the  young  ones,  and  myself.  We  are 
off  to  the  south.  Look  at  me !  I  am  an  old 
friend  from  the  country  where  the  Nile  flows ; 
and  so  is  the  mother,  though  there  is  more 
kindness  in  her  heart  than  in  her  tongue.  She 
always  believed  that  the  princess  would  make 
her  escape.  The  young  ones  and  I  brought 
these  swan  garbs  up  here.  "Well,  how  glad  1 
am,  and  how  fortunate  it  is  that  I  am  here 
Btill !  At  dawn  of  daj  we  shall  take  our  de- 
parture— a  large  party  of  storks.  We  shall  fly 
foremost,  and  if  jou  will  follow  us  jou  will  not 
miss  the  way.  The  young  ones  and  mysell 
will  have  an  eye  to  you." 

"And    the    lotus-flower    1    was    to    liave 
brought,"  said  the  Egyptian  princess ;  "  it  shiil] 


62  THE  mud-king's  DALX>11TEB. 

go  witliin  the  swan  disj^uise,  by  my  side,  and  1 
shall  have  my  heart's  darling  with  me.  Then 
liomewards — liomewards !" 

Tlien  Helga  said  that  she  could  not  leave  the 
Danish  land  until  she  had  once  more  seen  hei 
foster-mother,  the  Viking's  excellent  wife.  Tc 
Helga's  thoughts  arose  every  pleasing  recollec- 
tion, every  kind  word,  even  every  tear  her 
adopted  mother  had  shed  on  her  account ;  and, 
at  that  moment,  she  felt  that  she  almost  loved 
that  mother  best. 

"  Yes,  we  must  go  to  the  Viking's  castle," 
said  the  stork;  "there  my  young  ones  and 
their  mother  await  me.  How  they  will  stare ! 
The  mother  does  not  speak  much ;  but,  though 
she  is  rather  abrupt,  she  means  well.  I  will 
presently  make  a  little  noise,  that  she  maj- 
know  we  are  coming." 

And  he  clattered  with  his  bill  as  he  and  the 
swans  flew  close  to  the  Yikino-'s  castle. 

o 

Witliin  in  it  all  were  lying  in  deep  sleep. 
The  Yiking's  wife  had  retired  late  to  rest :  she 
lay  in  anxious  thought  about  little  Helga,  who 
now  for  full  three  days  and  nights  had  disap 
peared  along  with  the  Christian  priest :  she  had 
probably  assisted  him  in  his  escape,  for  it  was 
her  horse  that  was  missing  from  the  stablea 


6S 


By  what  power  had  all  this  been  accomplished  ? 
The  Yiking's  wife  thought  upon  the  wondrous 
works  she  had  heard  had  been  performed  by 
the  immaculate  Christ,  and  by  those  who  be- 
lieved on  Ilim  and  followed  Him.  Her  chang- 
ing thoughts  assumed  the  shapes  of  life  in  her 
dreams ;  she  fancied  she  was  still  awake,  lost 
in  deep  reflection ;  she  imagined  that  a  storm 
arose — that  she  heard  the  sea  roaring  in  the 
east  and  in  the  west,  the  waves  dashing  from 
the  Kattegat  and  the  North  Sea ;  the  hideous 
6eq)ents  which  encircled  the  earth  in  the 
depths  of  the  ocean  struggling  in  deadly  com- 
bat. It  was  the  night  of  the  gods — Ragnakok, 
as  the  heathens  called  the  last  hour,  when  all 
Bhould  be  changed,  even  the  high  gods  them- 
Belves.  The  reverberating  horn  sounded,  and 
forth,  over  the  rainbow,*  rode  the  gods,  clad  in 
Bteel,  to  fight  the  final  battle ;  before  them  flew 
the  winged  Yalkyries,  and  the  rear  was  brought 
up  by  the  shades  of  the  dead  giant-wamors ; 
the  whole  atmosphere  around  them  was  illumi- 
nated by  the  northern  lights,  but  darkness  con- 
quered all — it  was  an  awful  horn* ! 


*  Tlie  Bridge  of  Heaven  in  tlie  fables  of  the  Scandinavian 
mythology. — Trans, 


64 


And  near  the  terrified  Viking's  wife  sat  upon 
the  floor  little  Helga  in  the  ugly  disguise  of  the 
frog ;  and  she  shivered  and  worked  her  way  up 
to  her  foster-mother,  who  took  her  in  her  lap, 
and,  disgusting  as  she  was  in  that  form,  loving- 
ly caressed  her.  The  air  w^as  filled  with  the 
sounds  of  the  clashing  of  swords,  the  blows  of 
clubs,  the  wl.lzzing  of  arrows,  like  a  violent 
hailstorm.  The  time  was  come  when  heaven 
and  earth  should  be  destroyed,  the  stars  should 
fall,  and  all  be  swallowed  up  below  in  Surtur's 
fire ;  but  a  new  earth  and  a  new  heaven  she 
knew  were  to  come;  the  corn  was  to  wave 
where  the  sea  now  rolled  over  the  golden 
sands;  the  unknown  God  at  length  reigned; 
and  to  him  ascended  Baldur,  the  mild,  the  lov- 
able, released  from  the  kingdom  of  death.  He 
came ;  and  the  Yiking's  wife  beheld  him :  she 
recognized  his  countenance:  it  was  that  of 
the  captive  Christian  priest.  "Immaculate 
Christ !"  she  cried  aloud ;  and  whilst  uttering 
tliis  holy  name  she  impressed  a  kiss  upon  the 
ugly  brow  of  the  frog-child.  Then  fell  the 
magic  disguise,  and  Helga  stood  before  her  in 
all  her  radiant  beauty,  gentle  as  she  had  never 
looked  before,  and  with  speaking  eyes.  She 
kissed  her  foster-mother's  hands,  blessed  her  foi 


65 


all  the  care  and  kindness  which  she,  in  the  days 
of  distress  and  trial,  had  lavished  upon  hta* 
thanked  her  for  the  thoughts  with  which  she 
)ad  inspired  her  mind — thanked  her  for  men- 
tioning that  name  which  she  now  repeated, 
"  Immaculate  Christ !"  and  then  lifting  herselt 
up  in  the  suddenly  adopted  shape  of  a  graceful 
swan,  little  Helga  spread  her  wings  widely  out 
with  the  rustling  sound  of  a  flock  of  birds  of 
passage  on  the  wing,  and  in  another  moment 
she  was  gone. 

The  Yiking's  wife  awoke,  and  on  the  outside 
of  her  casement  were  to  be  heard  the  same 
rustling  and  flapping  of  wings.  It  was  the 
time,  she  knew,  when  the  storks  generally  took 
their  departure ;  it  was  them  she  heard.  She 
mshed  to  see  them  once  more  before  their  jour- 
ney to  the  south,  and  bid  them  farewell.  She 
got  up,  went  out  on  the  balcony,  and  then  she 
saw,  on  the  roof  of  an  adjoining  outhouse, 
Btork  upon  stork,  while  all  around  the  place, 
above  the  highest  trees,  flew  crowds  of  them, 
vvheeling  in  large  circles ;  but  below,  on  the 
brink  of  the  well,  where  little  Helga  had  but 
BO  lately  often  sat,  and  frightened  lier  with 
her  wild  actions,  sat  now  two  swans,  looking  up 
at  her  with  expressive  eyes;  and  she  remen' 


f>6  THE  MUD-KING'S  DAUGHTER. 

bered  her  dream,  which  seemed  to  her  ahnost  & 
reality.  She  tliought  of  Helga  in  the  appear- 
ance of  a  swan ;  she  thought  of  the  Christian 
priest,  and  felt  a  strange  gladness  in  her  heart 

The  swans  fluttered  their  wings  and  bowed 
their  necks,  as  if  they  were  saluting  her ;  and 
the  Yiking's  mfe  opened  her  arms,  as  if  she 
imderstood  them,  and  smiled  amidst  her  teara 
and  manifold  thoughts 

Then,  with  a  clattering  of  bills  and  a  noise 
of  wings,  the  storks  all  turned  towards  the 
south  to  commence  their  long  journey. 

"We  will  not  wait  any  longer  for  the 
swans,"  said  the  stork-mother.  "If  they 
choose  to  go  with  us,  they  must  come  at  once ; 
we  cannot  be  lingering  here  till  the  plovers 
begin  their  fliglit.  It  is  pleasant  to  travel  as 
we  do  in  a  family  party,  not  like  the  chaffinches 
and  strutting  cocks.  Among  their  species  the 
males  fly  by  themselves,  and  the  females  by 
themselves:  that,  to  say  the  least  of  it,  is  not 
at  all  seemly.  "VYliat  a  miserable  sound  tlie 
troke  of  the  swans'  wings  has  con  .pared  with 
ours !" 

*'  Every  one  flies  in  his  own  way,"  said  tLe 
stork-father.  "  Swans  fly  slantingly,  cranes  in 
ti'iaiigles,  and  plovers  in  6erj)entine  windings." 


THE   MUD-KENGS   DAUGHTER.  67 

"  !N'ame  not  serpents  or  snakes  when  we  arn 
about  to  flj  up  yonder,"  said  the  stork-mother. 
"  It  will  only  make  the  young  ones  long  for  a 
Bort  of  food  which  they  can't  get  just  now." 

"  Ai*e  these  the  high  hills,  beneath  yonder, 
of  which  I  have  heard  ?"  asked  Helga,  in  the 
disguise  of  a  swan. 

"  These  are  thunder-clouds  driving  under 
us,"  replied  her  mother. 

"  What  are  these  white  clouds  that  seem  so 
stationary  ?"  asked  Helga. 

"  These  are  the  mountains  covered  with 
everlasting  snow  that  thou  seest,"  said  her 
mother ;  and  they  flew  over  the  Alps  towards 
the  blue  Mediterranean. 

"  There  is  Africa !  there  is  Egypt  I"  cried  in 
joyful  accents,  under  ]ier  swan  disguise,  the 
daughter  of  the  Nile,  as  high  up  in  the  air  she 
descried,  like  a  whitish-yellow  billow-shaped 
streak,  her  native  soiL 

The  storks  also  saw  it,  and  quickened  their 
flight. 

"  I  smell  the  mad  of  tho  Nile  and  the  wet 
frogs,"  efvclahned  the  stork-mother.  "  It  makes 
my  mouth  water.  Yes,  now  ye  shall  have  nice 
thincrs  to  eat,  and  je  shall  see  the  marabout 


68 


^ 


the  ib]s,  and  the  crane :  tliej  are  all  reU/ed  to 
our  family,  but  are  not  nearly  so  handsome  as 
we  are.  They  think  a  great  deal,  however,  oi 
themselves,  particularly  the  ibis :  he  has  been 
spoiled  by  the  Egyj)tians,  who  make  a  mummy 
of  him,  and  stuff  him  with  aromatic  herbs.  I 
would  rather  be  stuffed  with  living  frogs ;  and 
that  is  what  ye  would  all  like  also,  and  what 
ye  shall  be.  Better  a  good  dinner  when  one 
is  living,  than  to  be  made  a  grand  show  of 
when  one  is  dead.  That  is  what  I  think,  and 
I  know  I  am  right." 

"  The  storks  have  returned,"  was  told  in  the 
splendid  house  on  the  banks  of  the  Nile,  where, 
within  the  open  hall,  upon  soft  cushions,  cov- 
ered with  a  leopard's  skin,  the  king  lay,  nei- 
ther living  nor  dead,  hoping  for  the  lotus- 
flower  from  the  deep  morass  of  the  north.  His 
kindred  and  his  attendants  were  standing 
aroimd  him. 

And  into  the  hall  flew  two  magnificent  white 
ifwans — they  had  arrived  with  the  storks.  They 
cast  off  the  dazzling  magic  feather  garbs,  and 
there  stood  two  beautiful  women,  as  like  each 
other  as  two  drops  of  water.  They  leaned  over 
the  pallid,  faded  old  man;  they  thi*ew  back 
their  long  hair;  and,  as  little  Helga  bowed 


THE   MUD-KLNG's    DAUGHTER.  61) 

over  lier  grandfather,  his  cheeks  flushed,  his 
eyes  sparkled,  life  returned  to  his  stiiicned 
limhs.  The  old  man  rose  hale  and  hearty ;  liii* 
daughter  and  his  grand-daughter  pressed  him  i  i 
their  arms,  as  if  in  a  glad  morning  sahitatioi 
after  a  long  heavy  dream. 

And  there  was  joy  throughout  the  palace, 
and  in  the  storks'  nest  also  ;  but  there  the  joy 
was  principally  for  the  good  food,  the  swarms 
of  nice  frogs;  and  whilst  the  learned  noted 
do'\\Ti  in  haste,  and  very  carelessly,  the  history 
of  the  two  princesses  and  of  the  lotus-flower  as 
an  important  event,  and  a  blessing  to  the  royal 
house,  and  to  the  country  in  general,  the  old 
storks  related  the  history  in  theu'  own  way  to 
their  own  family ;  but  not  until  they  had  all 
eaten  enough,  else  these  would  have  had  other 
things  to  think  of  than  listening  to  any  story. 

"jSTow  thou  wilt  be  somebody,"  whispered 
the  stork-mother ;  "  it  is  only  reasonable  to 
expect  that." 

"  Oh  !  what  should  /  be  T  said  the  stork 
father.  "And  what  have  /  done?  JS'oth 
ing!" 

"  Thou  hast  done  more  than  all  the  others 
put  together.     Without   thee  and  the  young 


70  THE    MLD-K]JSO'S    DAUGllTKB. 

ones  the  two  princesses  would  neyer  have  seeL 
Egypt  again,  or  cured  the  old  man.  Thou  will 
be  nothing  !  Thon  shouldst,  at  the  very  least, 
be  a]>pointed  court  doctor,  and  have  a  titla 
bestowed  on  thee,  which  our  young  ones  would 
inherit,  and  their  little  ones  after  them.  Thou 
dost  look  already  exactly  like  an  Egyptian 
doctor  in  my  eyes." 

The  learned  and  the  wise  lectured  upon 
"  the  fundamental  notion,"  as  they  called  it, 
which  pervaded  the  whole  tissue  of  events. 
"  Love  bestows  life."  Then  they  expounded 
their  meaning  in  this  manner  : 

"  The  warm  sunbeam  was  the  Egyptian 
princess ;  she  descended  to  the  mud-king,  and 
from  their  meeting  sprang  a  flower — " 

"  I  cannot  exactly  repeat  the  words,"  said 
the  stork-father,  who  had  been  listening  to  the 
discussion  from  the  roof,  and  was  now  telling 
in  his  nest  what  he  had  heard.  "  What  they 
said  was  not  easy  of  comprehension,  but  it  was 
80  exceedingly  wise  that  they  were  immediate- 
y  rewarded  with  rank  and  marks  of  distinc- 
tion. Even  the  prince's  head  cook  got  a  hand- 
some present — that  was,  doubtless,  for  having 
prepared  the  repast." 

"  And  what   didst    thou    get  ?"   asked    the 


71 


Btork-inotlier.  '*  Tliej  had  no  right  to  over- 
look the  most  important  actor  in  the  affair, 
and  that  was  thjsei£  The  learned  only  bab- 
bled about  the  n?atter.    But  so  it  is  always." 

Late  at  night,  when  the  now  happy  house- 
hold reposed  in  peaceful  slumbers,  there  waa 
one  who  was  still  awake  ;  and  that  was  not  the 
stork-father,  although  he  was  standing  upon  his 
nest  on  one  leg,  and  dozing  like  a  sentry.  !N'o ; 
Uttle  Helga  was  awake,  leaning  over  the  bal- 
cony, and  gazing  thi'ough  the  clear  air  at  the 
large  blazing  stars,  larger  and  brighter  than 
she  had  ever  seen  them  in  the  north,  and  yet 
the  sam^  She  was  thinking  upon  the  Yiking's 
wife  near  "  the  wild  morass  " — upon  her  foster- 
mother's  mild  eyes — upon  the  tears  she  had 
shed  over  the  poor  frog-child,  who  was  now 
standing  under  the  light  of  the  glorious  stars, 
on  the  banks  of  the  ]S^ile,  in  the  soft  spring  air. 
She  thought  of  the  love  in  the  heathen  woman's 
breast — the  love  she  had  shown  towards  an 
unfortunate  being,  who  in  human  form  was 
as  vicious  as  a  wild  beast,  and  in  the  form  of  a 
oxious  animal  was  horrible  to  look  upon  or  to 
touch.  She  gazed  at  the  glittering  stars,  and 
thought  of  the  shining  cu'cle  on  the  brow  of 
the  dead  priest,  when  tiiej  flew  over  the  forest 


72  THE  mub-king's  datjghtek. 

and  the  mortiss.  Tones  seemed  again  to  sound 
on  her  ears — words  she  had  heard  spoken  when 
they  rode  together,  and  she  sat  like  an  evil 
spirit  there- — words  about  the  great  source  oi 
love,  the  highest  love,  that  which  included  all 
races  and  all  generations.  Yes,  what  was  not 
bestowed,  won,  obtained?  Helga's  thoughts 
embraced  by  day,  by  night,  the  whole  of  her 
good  fortune ;  slie  stood  contemplating  it  like 
a  child  who  turns  precipitately  from  the  giver 
to  the  beautiful  gifts;  she  passed  on  to  the 
increasing  happmess  which  might  come,  and 
would  come.  Higher  and  higher  rose  he-i' 
thoughts,  till  she  so  lost  herself  in  the  dreams 
of  future  bliss  that  she  forgot  the  Giver  of  all 
good.  It  was  the  superabundance  of  youthful 
spirits  which  caused  her  imagination  to  take  so 
bold  a  fliglit.  Her  eyes  were  flashing  with  her 
thoughts,  when  suddenly  a  loud  noise  in  the 
court  beneath  recalled  her  to  mundane  objects. 
She  saw  there  two  enormous  ostriches  running 
angrily  round  in  a  narrow  circle.  She  had 
lever  before  seen  these  large  heavy  birds,  who 
ooked  as  if  their  wings  were  clipped ;  and 
when  she  asked  what  had  happened  to  them, 
she  heard  for  the  first  time  the  Egyptian 
legend  about  the  ostj-ich- 


THE  mqd-kjng's  daughtee.  73 

Its  race  had  once  been  beautiful,  its  wing3 
broad  and  strong.  Then  one  evening  the 
largest  forest  birds  said  to  it,  "  Brother,  shall 
we  flj  to-morrow,  God  willing,  to  the  river, 
a}id  drink  ?"  And  the  ostrich  answered,  "  Yes 
I  will."  At  dawn  they  flew  away,  first  up 
towards  the  snn,  higher  and  higher,  the  ostricli 
far  before  the  others.  It  flew  on  in  its  pride 
up  towards  the  light ;  it  relied  upon  its  own 
strength,  not  upon  tlie  Giver  of  that  strength ; 
it  did  not  say,  "  God  willing."  Then  the 
avenging  angel  drew  aside  the  veil  from  the 
streaming  flames,  and  in  that  moment  the 
bii'd's  wings  were  burnt,  and  he  sank  in 
wretchedness  to  the  earth.  Neither  he  nor  his 
species  were  ever  afterwards  able  to  raise  them- 
selves up  in  the  air.  They  fly  timidly — hurry 
along  in  a  narrow  space ;  they  are  a  warning 
to  mankind  in  all  our  thoughts  and  all  our 
enterprises  to  say,  "  God  willing." 

And  Helga  humbly  bowed  her  head,  looked 
at  the  ostriches  rushing  past,  saw  their  surprise 
and  theii'  simple  joy  at  the  sight  of  their  own 
lai'ge  shadows  on  the  white  wall,  and  more 
serious  thoughts  took  possession  of  her  mind, 
adding  to  her  present  happiness — inspiring 
brighter  hopes  for  the  future.     What  was  jet 


74  THE   MUD-KING'8   DAUOIITER. 

to  happen  ?     Tlie  best   for  her,   "  God   will 
ing." 

In  the  early  spring,  when  the  storks  were 
^bout  to  go  north  again,  Helga  took  from  her 
arm  a  golden  bracelet,  scratched  her  name 
upon  it,  beckoned  to  the  stork-father,  hung  the 
gold  band  round  his  neck,  and  bade  him  carry 
it  to  the  Viking's  wife,  who  would  tliereby 
know  that  her  adopted  daughter  lived,  was 
happy,  and  remembered  her. 

"  It  is  heavy  to  carry,"  thought  the  stork, 
when  it  was  hung  round  his  neck ;  "  but  gold 
and  honor  must  not  be  flung  away  upon  the 
high  road.  The  stork  brings  luck — they  must 
admit  that  up  yonder." 

"  Thou  layest  gold,  and  I  lay  eggs,"  said  the 
Btork-mother ;  "  but  thou  layest  only  once,  and 
I  lay  every  year.  But  neither  of  us  gets  any 
thanks,  which  is  very  vexatious." 

"  One  knows,  however,  that  one  has  done 
one's  duty,"  said  the  stork-father. 

"  But  that  can't  be  hung  up  to  be  seen  and 
.auded ;  and  if  it  could  be,  fine  words  butter 
no  parsnips." 

So  they  flew  away. 

The  little  nightingale  that  sang  upon  the 


75 


taraarind-tree  would  also  soon  be  going  north, 
up  3^onder  near  "the  wild  morass."  Helga 
l.iad  often  heard  it — she  would  send  a  message 
by  it  ;  for,  since  she  had  floAvn  in  the  magical 
disgidse  of  the  swan,  she  had  often  spoken  to 
the  storks  and  the  swallows.  The  nightingale 
would  therefore  understand  her,  and  she  prayed 
it  to  fly  to  the  beech  wood  upon  the  Jutland 
peninsula,  where  the  tomb  of  stone  and 
branches  had  been  erected.  She  asked  it  to 
beg  all  the  little  bii'ds  to  protect  the  sacred 
spot,  and  frequently  to  sing  over  it. 

And  the  nightingale  fle'sv  away,  and  time 
flew  also. 

And  the  eagle  stood  upon  a  pyramid,  and 
looked  in  the  autumn  on  a  stately  procession 
with  richly-laden  camels,  with  armed  and 
splendidly  equipped  men  on  snorting  Arabian 
horses  shining  white  like  silver,  with  red  trem- 
bling nostrils,  with  long  thick  manes  hanging 
down  to  their  slender  legs.  Rich  guests — a 
oyal  Arabian  prince,  handsome  as  a  prince 
should  be — approached  the  gorgeous  palace 
where  the  storks'  nests  stood  empty.  Those 
^ho  dwelt  in  these  nests  were  away  in  the  far 
aorth,  but  they  were  soon  to  return  ;  and  they 


76  rfiE  snjD-KrN"G'&  daughter. 

aiTJved  on  tlie  veiy  day  that  was  most  marked 
by  joy  and  festivities.  It  was  a  wedding  least  • 
and  tlie  beautiful  Helga,  clad  in  silli  and  jew 
els,  was  the  bride.  The  bridegroom  was  th 
yoimg  prince  from  Arabia.  They  sat  at  th 
upper  end  of  the  table,  between  her  mother 
and  grandfather. 

But  she  looked  not  at  the  bridegroom's 
bronzed  and  manly  cheek,  where  the  dark 
beard  curled.  She  looked  not  at  his  black 
eyes,  so  full  of  fire,  that  were  fastened  upon 
her.  She  gazed  outwards  upon  the  bright 
twinkling  stars  that  glittered  far  away  in  the 
heavens. 

Then  a  loud  rustling  of  strong  wings  was 
heard  in  the  air.  The  storks  had  come  back  ; 
and  the  old  pair,  fatigued  as  they  were  after 
their  journey,  and  much  in  need  of  rest,  flew 
immediately  down  to  the  rails  of  the  verandah, 
for  they  knew  what  festival  was  going  on.  They 
had  heard  already  at  the  frontiers  that  Helga 
had  had  them  painted  upon  the  wall,  introdu  • 
oing  them  int^  her  own  history. 

"  It  was  a  kiud  thought  of  hers,"  said  tho 
stork-father. 

"It  is  very  little,"  said  the  stork-mother 
"  She  could  hardly  have  done  less." 


77 


And  when  Helga  saw  tliem  slie  rose,  and 

went   out   into   the  verandah  to  stroke  iheir 

backs.    The  old  couple  bowed  then*  necks,  and 

the  youngest  little  ones  felt  themselves  mnch 

onored  bj  being  so  well  received. 

And  Helga  looked  up  towards  the  shining 
stars,  that  glittered  more  and  more  brilliantly ; 
and  between  them  and  her  she  beheld  in  the 
air  a  transparent  form.  It  floated  nearer  to 
her.  It  was  the  dead  Christian  priest,  who 
had  also  come  to  her  bridal  solemnity — come 
fi'om  the  kingdom  of  heaven. 

"  The  glory  and  beauty  up  yonder  far  exceed 
all  that  is  known  on  earth,"  he  said. 

And  Helga  pleaded  softly,  earnestly,  thai 
but  for  one  moment  she  might  be  allowed  to 
ascend  up  thither,  and  to  cast  one  single  glance 
on  those  heavenly  scenes. 

Then  he  raised  her  amidst  splendor  and 
magnificence,  and  a  stream  of  delicious  music. 
It  was  not  around  her  only  that  all  seemed  to  be 
brightness  and  music,  but  the  hght  seemed  to 
stream  in  her  sold,  and  the  sweet  tones  to  be 
echoed  there.  Words  cannot  describe  what 
Bhe  felt. 

"  We  must  now  return,"  he  said :  "  thou  wilt 
be  missed." 


78 


'*  Only  one  more  glance !"  slie  entreated 
"  Only  one  short  minute  !" 

"We  must  return  to  earth — the  guests  are 
all  departing." 

*'  But  one  more  glance — ^the  last !" 

And  Helga  stood  as^ain  in  the  verandah,  but 
all  the  torches  outside  v.  re  extinguished ;  all 
the  light  in  the  bridal  saloon  was  gone ;  the 
storks  were  gone ;  no  guests  were  to  be  seen — 
no  bridegroom.  All  had  vanished  in  those 
three  short  minutes. 

Then  Helga  felt  anxious.  She  wandered 
tlirough  the  vast  empty  halls — there  slept  for- 
eign soldiers.  She  opened  the  side  door  which 
led  to  her  own  chambers,  and,  as  she  fan- 
cied she  was  entering  them,  she  found  herself 
in  the  garden:  it  had  n*ot  stood  there.  Eed 
streaks  crossed  the  skies ;  it  was  the  dawn  of  day. 

Only  three  minutes  in  heaven,  and  a  whole 
night  on  earth  had  passed  away. 

Then  she  perceived  the  storks.  She  called 
to  them,  spoke  their  language,  and  the  old 
Btork  turned  his  head  towards  her,  listened,  and 
drew  near. 

"Thou  dost  speak  oui'  language,"  said  he. 
"  What  wouldst  thou  ?  Whence  com  est  thou, 
thou  foreign  maiden  ?" 


THE   mud-king's    l»AUGHTEE.  79 

"  It  is  I — it  is  Helga !  Dost  thou  not  kno^v 
ine  ?  Three  minutes  ago  we  were  talking  to- 
■aether  in  the  verandah." 

"  That  is  a  mistake,"  said  the  stork.  "  Thou 
must  have  dreamt  this." 

"  No,  no,"  she  said,  and  reminded  him  of  the 
Viking's  castle,  "  the  wild  morass,"  the  journey 
thence. 

Then  the  old  stork  winked  with  his  eyes. 

"  That  is  a  very  old  stoiy ;  I  have  heard  it 
from  my  great-great-grandmother's  time.  Yes, 
truly  there  was  once  in  Egypt  a  princess  from 
the  Danish  land ;  but  she  disappeared  on  the 
evening  of  her  wedding,  many  hundred  years 
ago,  and  was  never  seen  again.  Thou  canst 
read  that  thyself  upon  the  monument  in  the 
garden,  upon  which  are  sculptured  both  swans 
and  storks,  and  above  it  stands  one  like  thyself- 
in  the  white  marble." 

And  so  it  was.  Helga  saw,  comprehended 
it  all,  and  sank  on  her  knees. 

The  sun  burst  forth  in  all  its  morning  splen- 
dor, and  as,  in  former  days,  with  its  first  raya 
fell  the  frog  disguise,  and  the  lovely  form  be- 
came visible ;  so  now,  in  the  baptism  of  light, 
arose  a  form  of  celestial  beauty,  purer  than  the 
air,  as  if  in  a  veil  of  radiance  to  the  Father 


80 


THE    MDD-KTNG  S   DAUQHTEB. 


above.     The  body  sank  into  dust,  and  where 
Bhe  had  stood  lay  a  faded  lotus-flower ! 


"Well,  this  is  a  new  fiu ale  to  the  story,'' 
Baid  the  stork-father, '  vr  ^  ch  I  by  no  means 
♦xpected;  but  I  am  quite   atisfied  with  it." 
.  "  I  wonder  what  the  young  ones  will  say  to 
it  ?"  replied  the  stork-mother. 

"Ah!   that,  indeed,   is  of  the  most  cons© 
tjuence,'* 


THE   LAST   PEARL 


E  are  in  a  rich,  a  happy  house;  aD 
are  cheerful  and  full  of  joj,  master, 
sei-vants,  and  friends  of  the  family; 
for  on  this  day  an  heir,  a  son,  liac 
been  born,  and  mother  and  child 
were  doing  exceedingly  well. 
The  burning  lamp  in  the  bedcham- 
ber had  been  partly  shaded,  and  the  windows 
were  guarded  by  heavy  curtains  of  some  costly 
silken  fabric.  The  carpet  was  thick,  and  soft 
as  a  mossy  lawn,  and  every  thing  invited  to 
slimiber — was  charmingly  suggestive  of  repose 
■ — and  the  nurse  found  that,  for  she  slept ;  and 
here  she  might  sleep,  for  every  thing  was  good 
and  blessed.  The  guardian  spirit  of  the  house 
leaned  against  the  head  of  the  bed ;  over  the 
cliild  at  the  mother's  breast  there  spread  as  it 
were  a  net  of  shining  stars  in  endless  number, 
and  each  star  was  a  pearl  of  happiness.  AH  the 
good  stars  of  life  had  brought  their  gifts  to  the 


82  TUE    LAST   PEAilL. 

uew-born  one;  here  sparkled  health,  wealth, 
fortune,  and  love — in  short,  every  thmg  tha 
man  can  wish  for  on  earth. 

"  Every  thing  has  been  presented  here  1"  said 
the  guardian  spirit. 

"JS^o,  not  every  thing,"  said  a  voice  neai 
liim,  the  voice  of  the  child's  good  angel, 

"  One  fairy  has  not  yet  brought  her  gift ;  bu''. 
she  w  ill  do  so  some  day,  even  if  years  should 
elapse  lirst,  she  will  bring  her  gift;  the  lasi 
pearl  is  yet  wanting." 

"  Wanting !  here  nothing  may  be  wanting, 
and  if  it  should  be  the  case,  let  me  go  and  seek 
the  powerful  fairy ;  let  us  betake  oui'selves  tc 
her!" 

"  She  comes !  she  will  come  some  day  un- 
sought! Her  pearl  may  not  be  wanting;  it 
must  be  there,  so  that  the  complete  crown  may 
be  won." 

"Where  is  she  to  be  found?  Where  does 
she  dwell  ?  Tell  it  me,  and  I  will  procure  the 
pearl." 

"  You  will  do  that  ?"  said  the  good  angel  oi 
the  child.  "I  will  lead  you  to  her  directly, 
wherever  she  may  be.  She  has  no  abidiiig 
place — sometimes  she  rules  in  the  emperor's 
palace,  sometimes  you  will  find  her  in  the  peas- 


I  THE    LAST    PEARL.  83 

ftiit's  humble  cot ;  slie  goes  by  no  person  with- 
out leaving  a  trace ;  she  brings  two  gifts  to  all ; 
be  it  a  world  or  a  trifle !  To  this  child  also  she 
must  come.  Y'ou  think  the  time  is  equally 
long,  but  not  equally  profitable.  Come,  let 
us  go  for  this  pearl,  the  last  pearl  in  all  thi? 
wealth." 

And  hand  in  hand  they  floated  towards  the 
spot  where  the  fairy  was  now  lingering. 

It  was  a  great  house  with  dark  windows,  and 
empty  rooms,  and  a  peculiar  stillness  reigned 
therein ;  a  whole  row  of  windows  had  been 
opened,  so  that  the  rough  air  could  penetrate 
at  its  pleasure ;  the  long,  white,  hanging  cur- 
tains moved  to  and  fro  in  the  cm-rent  of  wind. 

In  the  middle  of  the  room  was  placed  an  open 
coflin,  and  in  this  cofiin  lay  the  corpse  of  a 
woman,  still  in  the  bloom  of  youth,  and  very 
beautiful.  Fresh  roses  were  scattered  over  her, 
so  that  only  the  delicate  folded  hands,  and  the 
noble  face,  glorified  in  death  by  the  solemn 
look  of  conseci*ation  and  entrance  to  the  bettei 
world,  were  visible. 

Around  the  coffin  stood  the  husband  and  the 
children,  a  whole  troop;  the  youngest  child 
rested  on  the  father's  ann,  and  all  bade  their 
mother  the  last  fareu-ell*  the  husband  kissed 


S-i  THE    LAST    PEAKL. 

her  liand,  the  hand  which  now  was  as  a  with 
ered  leaf;  but  which  a  short  time  ago  had  been 
working  and  striving  in  dih'gent  love  for  them 
all.  Tears  of  sorrow  rolled  over  their  cheeks, 
and  fell  in  heavy  drops  to  the  floor;  but  not  a 
word  was  spoken.  The  silence  which  reigned 
here  expressed  a  world  of  grief.  With  silent 
footsteps  and  with  many  a  sob,  they  quitted  the 
room. 

A  burning  light  stands  in  the  room,  and  the 
long  red  wick  peers  out  high  above  the  flame, 
that  flickers  in  the  current  of  air.  Strange 
men  come  in,  and  lay  the  lid  on  the  coffin  over 
the  dead  one,  and  drive  the  nails  firmly  in,  and 
the  blows  of  the  hammer  resound  through  the 
house,  and  echo  in  the  hearts  that  are  bleeding. 

"  "Whither  art  thou  leading  me  ?"  asked  the 
guardian  spirit.  "  Here  dwells  no  fairy  whoso 
pearl  might  be  counted  amongst  the  best  gifts 
for  life!" 

"  Here  she  lingers ;  here  in  this  sacred  hom*.'^ 
Baid  the  angel,  and  pointed  to  a  corner  of  th 
room ;  and  there  where  in  her  lifetime  th 
mother  had  taken  her  seat  amid  flowers  and 
ictures;  there  from  wlience,  like  the  benefi 
cent  fairy  of  the  house,  she  had  greeted  hus- 
band, children,  and  friends;  from  wlience,  like 


THE    I  A.ST   PEAEL.  bo 

tlie  sunbeams,  she  had  spread  joy  and  cheerful- 
ness, and  been  the  centre  and  the  heart  of  all 
there  sat  a  strange  woman,  clad  in  long  gar- 
ments, it  was  "the  Chastened  Heart/"'  now  m'lSr 
tress  and  mother  here  in  the  dead  ladj's  place 
k  hot  tear  rolled  down  into  her  lap,  and  formed 
itself  into  a  pearl  glowing  with  all  the  colors  oi 
the  rainbow ;  the  angel  seized  it,  and  the  pearl 
shone  like  a  star  of  sevenfold  radiance. 

The  "oearl  of  Chastening,  the  last,  which 
must  not  be  wanting  I  it  heightens  the  lustre 
and  the  meaning  of  the  other  pearls.  Do  you 
see  the  sheen  of  the  rainbow — of  the  bow  that 
unites  heaven  and  earth  !  A  bridge  has  been 
built  between  this  world  and  the  heaven  be- 
yond. Through  the  earthly  night  we  gaze  up- 
ward to  the  stars,  looking  for  perfection.  Con- 
template it,  the  pearl  of  Chastening,  for  it  hides 
within  itself  the  wings  that  shall  carry  us  to  ihs 

better  wo^^rS 

8 


THE    METAL    PIQ. 


J)  N  the  city  of  Florence,  not  fai  from  the 
Piazza  del  Granditca,  there  runs  a  lit- 
tle cross-street.  I  think  it  is  called  Porta 
Posa.  In  this  street,  in  front  of  a  kind 
of  market-hall  where  vegetables  are  sold, 
there  lies  a  pig  artistically  fashioned  of 
metal.  The  fresh  clear  water  pours  from  the  jaws 
of  the  creature,  which  has  become  a  blackish- 
green  from  age ;  only  the  snout  shines  as  if  it  had 
])een  polished  ;  and  indeed  it  has  been,  by  many 
hundreds  of  children  and  lazzaroni,  who  seize 
it  with  their  hands,  and  place  their  mouths 
close  to  the  mouth  of  the  animal,  to  drink.  It 
is  a  perfect  picture  to  see  the  well-shaped  crea- 
ture clasped  by  a  half-naked  boy,  who  lays  his 
red  lips  against  its  jaws. 

Every  one  who  comes  to  Florence  can  easily 
Knd  the  place ;  he  need  only  ask  the  first  beg- 
gar lie  meets  for  the  metal  pig,  and  he  will  find  it. 
It  was  late  on  a  wmter  evening.     The  moun- 


THE   METAX    TIG.  87 

tanis  were  covered  with  snow ;  but  tlie  moon 
fihone,  and  moonlight  in  Italy  is  just  as  good  aa 
the  light  of  a  murky  northern  T\dnter's  day  ; 
nay,  it  is  better,  for  the  au'  shines  and  lifts  u 
up,  while  in  the  north  the  cold  gray  leaden  cov 
ering  seems  to  press  us  downwards  to  the  eartli, 
—the  cold  damp  earth,  which  will  once  press 
down  our  coflBn. 

In  the  garden  of  the  grand  duke's  palace, 
under  a  penthouse  roof,  where  a  thousand  roses 
bloom  in  winter,  a  little  ragged  boy  had  been 
sitting  all  day  long,  a  boy  who  might  serve  as 
a  type  of  Italy,  pretty  and  smiling,  and  yet  suf- 
feiing.  He  was  hungry  and  thirsty,  but  no 
one  gave  him  any  thing ;  and  when  it  became 
dark,  and  the  garden  was  to  be  closed,  the  por- 
ter turned  him  out.  Long  he  stood  musing  on 
the  bridge  that  spans  the  Amo,  and  looked  at 
the  stars,  whose  Hght  glittered  in  the  water  be- 
tween him  and  the  splendid  marble  bridge  Delia 
Tr^initd, 

He  took  the  way  towards  the  metal  pig,  hali 
knelt  down,  clasped  his  arms  round  it,  put  his 
mouth  against  its  shining  snout,  and  drank  the 
fresh  water  in  deep  draughts.  Close  by  lay  a 
few  leaves  of  salad  and  one  or  two  chestnuts ; 
these  were  his  supper.     Ko  one  was  in  the 


88  THE   METAL   PIG 

street  but  himself;  it  belonged  to  h'u  i  alone, 
and  he  boldly  sat  down  on  the  pig's  back,  bent 
forward,  so  that  his  curly  head  rested  on  the 
head  of  the  animal,  and  before  he  was  aware 
he  fell  asleep. 

It  was  midnight.  The  Metal  Pig  stirred 
and  he  heard  it  say  quite  distinctly,  "You  lit- 
tle boy,  hold  tight,  for  now  I  am  going  to  run," 
and  away  it  ran  with  him.  This  was  a  wonder- 
ful ride.  First  they  got  to  the  Piazza  deb 
Granduca^  and  the  metal  horse  which  carries! 
the  duke's  statue  neighed  aloud ;  the  painted 
coats-of-arms  on  the  old  council-horse  looked 
like  transparent  pictures ;  and  Michael  Angelo'a 
"  David"  swung  his  sling :  there  was  a  strange 
life  stirring  among  them.  The  metal  groups 
representing  persons,  and  the  rape  of  the  Sa- 
bines,  stood  there  as  if  they  were  alive :  a  cry  of 
mortal  fear  escaped  them,  and  resounded  over 
the  splendid  square. 

By  the  Palazzo  degU  Uffizi,  in  the  arcade 
where  the  nobility  assemble  for  the  Carnival 
amusements,  the  metal  pig  stopped.  "Hold 
tight,"  said  the  creature,  "  for  now  we  ai'e  go- 
mg  up-stairs."  The  little  boy  spoke  not  a 
word,  for  he  was  half  fidghtened,  half  delighted, 

l^hey  came  into  a  long  gallery  where  the  boy 


I  THE   METAL   PIG.  89 

had  already  been.  Tlie  walls  shone  with  pic- 
tures ;  here  stood  statues  and  busts,  all  in  the 
most  chaiTQing  light,  as  if  it  had  been  broad 
day :  but  the  most  beautiful  of  all  was  wheu 
the  door  of  a  side-room  opened ;  the  little  boy 
could  remember  the  splendor  that  was  there, 
but  on  this  night  every  thing  shone  in  the  most 
glorious  colors. 

Here  stood  a  beautiful  woman,  as  radiant  in 
beauty  as  nature  and  the  greatest  master  ()t 
sculpture  could  make  her;  she  moved  her 
graceful  limbs,  dolphins  sprang  at  her  feet,  and 
immortality  shone  out  of  her  eyes.  The  world 
calls  her  the  Yenus  de  Medici.  By  her  side 
are  statues  in  which  the  spirit  of  life  has  been 
breathed  into  the  stoite ;  they  are  handsome 
unclothed  men — one  was  sharpening  a  sword, 
and  was  called  the  grinder ;  the  wrestling  gladi- 
ators formed  another  group ;  and  the  sword  was 
sharpened,  and  they  strove  for  the  goddess  ol 
beauty. 

The  boy  was  dazzled  by  all  this  pomj) ;  the 
walls  gleamed  with  bright  colors,  every  thing 
was  life  and  movement. 

What  splendor,  what  beauty  shone  from  hall 
to  hall!  and  the  little  boy  saw  every  thmg 
plainly,  for  the  metal  pig  went  step  by  step 


90  THE   METAL   PIG. 

from  one  picture  to  another,  through  all  tliis 
scene  of  magnificence.  Each  fresh  glorj  ef- 
faced the  last.  One  picture  only  fixed  itseli 
firmly  in  his  soul,  especially  through  the  very 
happy  children '  introduced  into  it;  for  these 
the  little  boy  had  greeted  in  the  daylight. 

Many  persons  pass  by  this  picture  with  indil 
ference ;  and  yet  it  contains  a  treasure  of  po- 
etry. It  represents  the  Saviour  descending  into 
hell.  But  these  are  not  the  damned  whom  the 
spectator  sees  around  hun,  they  are  heathen. 
The  Florentine  Angiolo  Bronzino  painted  this 
picture.  Most  beautifid  is  the  expression  on 
the  faces  of  the  children,  tJie  full  confidence 
that  they  will  get  to  heaven ;  two  little  beings 
are  already  embracing*;  and  one  little  one 
stretches  out  his  hand  towards  another  who 
stands  below  him,  and  points  to  himself  as  it 
he  were  saying,  "  I  am  going  to  heaven !"  The 
)lder  people  stand  uncertain,  hoping,  but  bow- 
ing in  liumble  adoration  before  the  Lord  Jesus. 
The  boy's  eyes  rested  longer  on  this  picture 
than  on  any  other.  The  metal  pig  stood  still 
before  it.  A  low  sigh  was  heard ;  did  it  come 
from  the  picture  or  from  the  animal  ?  The  boy 
lifted  up  his  hands  towards  the  smiling  chil 
dren;  then  the  pig  ran  away  with  him,  away 


THE    METAL    PIG.  91 

through  the  opeu  vestibule.  "Thanks  a-ad 
blessings  to  jou,  yon  dear  thing!"  said  the 
little  boy,  and  caressed  the  metal  pig,  as  it 
sprang  down  the  steps  with  him." 

"  Thanks  and  blessings  to  yourself,"  replied 
the  metal  pig.  "  I  have  helped  you,  and  you 
have  helped  me,  for  only  with  an  innocent  child 
on  my  back  do  I  receive  power  to  run  !  Yes, 
you  see  I  may  even  step  into  the  rays  of  the 
lamp,  in  front  of  the  picture  of  the  Madouna, 
only  I  mayn't  go  into  the  church.  But  from 
without,  when  you  are  with  me,  I  may  look  in 
through  the  open  door.  Do  not  get  down  from 
my  back ;  if  you  do  so,  I  shall  lie  dead  as  you 
see  me  in  the  daytime  at  the  Porta  RosaP 

"  I  will  stay  with  you,  my  dear  creature !" 
cried  the  child ;  so  they  went  in  hot  haste 
through  the  streets  of  Florence,  out  into  the 
place  before  the  church  Santa  OroGeP 

The  folding-doors  flew  open  and  lights  gleam- 
ed out  from  the  altar  through  the  church  on 
the  deserted  square. 

A  wonderful  blaze  of  light  streamed  forth 
from  a  monument  in  the  left  aisle,  and  a  thou- 
Band  moving  stars  seemed  to  form  a  glory  round 
it.  A  coat  of  arms  shone  upon  the  grave,  a  red 
ladder  in  a  blue  field  seemed  to  glow  like  fij-e ; 


92  THE   MKTAI.   PIG. 

it  was  the  grave  of  Galilei.  The  monmneiit  ia 
miadomed,  but  the  red  ladder  is  a  significant 
emblem,  as  if  it  were  that  of  art,  for  here  the 
Avay  always  leads  up  a  burning  ladder,  towards 
heaven.  The  prophets  of  mind  soar  upward 
towards  heaven,  like  Elias  of  old. 

To  the  right,  in  the  aisle  of  the  church,  every 
statue  on  the  richly  carved  sarcophagi  seemed 
endowed  with  life.  Here  stood  Michael  An 
gelo,  there  Dante  with  the  laui-el  wi'eath  round 
his  brow,  Alfieri  and  Machiavelli ;  for  here  the 
great  men,  the  pride  of  Italy,  rest  side  by  side.* 
It  is  a  glorious  church,  far  more  beautiful  than 
the  marble  cathedi-al  of  Florence,  though  not 
so  large. 

It  seemed  as  if  the  marble  vestments  stin-ed, 
as  if  the  great  forms  raised  their  heads  higher 
and  looked  up,  amid  song  and  music,  to  the 


*  Opposite  to  the  grave  of  Galilei  is  the  tomb  of  Michael 
Angelo.  On  the  monument  his  bust  is  displayed,  with 
three  figures,  representing  Sculpture,  Painting,  and  Archi- 
tecture. Close  by  is  a  monument  to  Dante,  whose  corpse 
is  interred  at  Ravenna ;  on  tliis  monument  Italy  is  repre- 
sented pointing  to  a  colossal  statue  of  the  poet,  while  Po- 
etry weeps  over  Lis  loss.  A  few  paces  further  on  is  Alfi- 
eri's  monument,  adorned  with  laure],  the  lyre,  and  dramatic 
masks  :  Italy  weeps  at  his  grave.  Machiavelli  here  closes 
the  series  of  celebrated  men. 


THE    METAL    PIG.  93 

bnglit  altar  glowing  with  color,  where  the  \\iiite« 
clad  boys  swijig  the  golden  censers ;  and  the 
strong  fragrance  streamed  out  of  the  church 
into  tlie  open  square. 

The  boy  stretched  forth  his  hand  towards  the 
gleaming  light;  and  in  a  moment  the  metal 
pig  resumed  his  headlong  career;  he  was 
obliged  to  cling  tightly,  and  the  wind  whistled 
about  his  ears :  he  heard  the  church-door  creak 
on  its  hinges  as  it  closed ;  but  at  the  same  mo- 
ment his  senses  seemed  to  desert  him — he  felt 
a  cold  shudder  pass  over  him,  and  awoke. 

It  was  morning ;  and  he  was  still  sittmg  on 
the  metal  pig,  which  stood,  where  it  always 
stood  on  the  Porta  Rosa^  and  he  had  slipped 
lialf  off  its  back. 

Fear  and  trembling  filled  the  soul  of  the  boy 
at  the  thought  of  her  whom  he  called  mother, 
and  who  had  yesterday  sent  him  forth  to  bring 
money ;  for  he  had  none,  and  was  hmigry  and 
thu'sty.  Once  more  he  clasped  his  arms  round 
the  neck  of  his  metal  horse,  kissed  its  lips,  and 
nodded  farewell  to  it.  Then  he  wandered  aw^ay 
into  one  of  the  narrowest  streets  where  there 
was  scarcely  room  for  a  laden  ass.  A  great 
iron-clamped  door  stood  ajar ;  he  passed  through 
it,  and  climbed  up  a  brick  stair  with  dirty  walls 


94  TUE   METAL    PIG. 

and  a  rope  for  a  balustrade,  till  he  came  tu  an 
open  gallery  hung  with  rags :  from  here  a  flight 
of  stau's  led  down  into  the  court,  where  there 
was  a  fountain,  and  great  ii'on  wii*es  led  up  to 
the  different  stories,  and  many  water-bucketa 
hung  side  by  side,  and  at  times  the  rollei 
creaked,  and  one  of  the  buckets  would  dance 
into  the  air,  swaying  so  that  the  water  splashed 
out  of  it  down  into  the  courtyard.  A  second 
ruinous  brick  staircase  here  led  upwards  :  two 
Eussian  sailors  were  running  briskly  dowTi,  and 
almost  overturned  the  poor  boy.  They  w^ere 
going  home  from  their  nightly  carouse.  A 
large  woman,  no  longer  young,  followed  them. 
"  What  do  you  bring  home  ?"  she  asked  the  boy 

"  Don't  be  angry,"  he  pleaded.  "  I  received 
nothing,  nothing  at  all,"  and  he  seized  the  moth* 
er's  dress,  and  would  have  kissed  it.  They  went 
into  the  little  room.  I  will  not  describe  it,  but 
only  say  that  there  stood  in  it  an  earthen  pot 
with  handles,  made  for  holding  fire,  and  called 
a  marito.  This  pot  she  took  in  her  arms, 
warmed  her  fingers,  and  pushed  the  boy  with 
her  elbow.  "  Certainly  you  must  have  brought 
Fome  money,"  said  she. 

The  boy  wept,  and  she  struck  him  with  hei 
foot,  so  that  he  cried  aloud. 


THE   METAL    VIG.  05 

"  Will  you  be  silent,  or  I'll  break  your  scream 
ing  head!"  and  sbe  brandished  the  fire-pot 
which  she  held  in  her  liand ;  the  boy  crouched 
down  to  the  earth  witli  a  scream  of  terror 
Then  a  neighbor  stepped  in,  also  with  a  niariU 
in  her  arms.  "  Felicita,"  she  said,  "  what  are 
you  doing  to  the  child?" 

"  The  child  is  mine,"  retorted  Felicita.  "  I 
can  murder  him  if  I  like,  and  you,  too,  Gian- 
uina,"  and  she  SAvung  her  fire-pot.  The  other 
lifted  up  hers  in  self-defence,  and  the  two  pots 
clashed  together  with  such  fury  that  fragments, 
fire,  and  ashes  flew  about  the  room :  but  at  the 
same  moment  the  boy  rushed  out  at  the  door, 
sped  across  the  com-tyard,  and  fled  from  the 
house.  The  poor  child  ran  till  he  was  quite 
out  of  breath  :  he  stopped  by  the  church  whose 
great  doors  had  opened  to  him  the  previous 
night,  and  went  in.  Eveiy  thing  was  radiant : 
the  boy  knelt  down  at  the  first  grave  on  the 
right  hand,  the  grave  of  Michael  Angelo ;  and 
soon  he  sobbed  aloud.  People  came  and  went 
and  Mass  was  performed ;  but  no  one  noticec* 
the  boy,  only  an  elderly  citizen  stood  still 
looked  at  him,  and  then  went  away  like  the 
rest. 

Ilimger  and  thirst  tormented  the  child ;  he 


96  THE   METAL    PIO. 

was  quite  faint  and  ill,  and  he  crept  into  a  cor 
ner  between  the  marble  monuments,  and  went 
to  sleep.  Towards  evening  he  was  awakened 
by  a  tug  at  his  sleeve :  he  started  up,  and  the 
same  citizen  stood  before  him. 

"Are  you  ill?  Where  do  you  live?  Ilave 
you  been  here  all  day  ?"  were  three  of  the  many 
■questions  the  old  man  asked  of  liim.  He  an- 
swered, and  the  old  man  took  bim  into  his 
little  house,  close  by,  in  a  back  street.  They 
came  into  a  glover's  workshop,  where  a  woman 
sat  sewing  busily.  A  little  white  Spitz-dog,  so 
closely  shaven  that  his  pink  skin  could  be  seen, 
frisked  about  on  tbe  table,  and  gambolled  be- 
fore the  boy. 

"Innocent  souls  make  acquaintance,"  said 
the  woman ;  and  she  caressed  the  boy  and  the 
dog.  The  good  people  gave  the  child  food  and 
drink,  and  said  he  should  be  permitted  to  stay 
the  niglit  with  them;  and  next  day  Father 
Giuseppe  would  speak  to  his  mother.  A  little 
simple  bed  was  assigned  to  him ;  but  for  him 
who  had  often  slept  on  the  hard  stones  it  was  a 
royal  couch ;  and  he  slept  sweetly,  and  dreamed 
of  the  splendid  pictures  and  of  the  metal  pig. 

Father  Giuseppe  went  out  next  morning  j 
the  poor  child  was  not  glad  of  this,  for  he  knew 


THE   METAL    PIG.  97 

that  the  object  of  the  errand  was  to  send  him 
back  to  his  mother.  He  wept,  and  kissed  the 
httle  merry  dog,  and  the  woman  nodded  ap- 
provingly at  both. 

What  news  did  Father  Giuseppe  bring  home 
ile  spoke  a  great  deal  with  his  wife,  and  sh 
nodded  and  stroked  the  boy's  cheek.  "  lie  i^ 
a  capital  lad !"  said  she.  "  He  may  become  an- 
accomplished  glove  maker,  like  you ;  and  loo]; 
what  delicate  fingers  he  has!  Madonna  in- 
tended him  for  a  glove-maker !" 

And  the  boy  stayed  in  the  house,  and  the 
woman  herself  taught  him  to  sew :  he  ate  well, 
slept  well,  and  became  merry,  and  began  ^o 
tease  Bellissima,  as  the  little  dog  was  called  ;  bur 
the  woman  grew  angry  at  this,  and  scolded  and 
threatened  him  with  her  finger.  This  touched 
the  boy's  heart,  and  he  sat  thoughtful  in  his 
little  chamber.  Tliis  chamber  looked  upon  the 
street  in  which  skins  were  dried ;  there  were 
thick  bars  of  iron  before  his  window ;  he  could 
not  sleep,  the  metal  pig  was  always  present  in 
his  thoughts,  and  suddenly  he  heard  outside  a 
pit-pat.  That  must  be  the  pig !  He  sprang  tc 
the  window ;  but  nothing  was  to  be  seen,  it  h?  d 
passed  by  already. 

"  Help  the  gentleman  to  carry  liis  box  of  col 


98  THE   METAL    PIG. 

ors!"  said  the  woman  next  morning,  to  the 
boy,  when  their  young  neighbor  the  artist 
passed  by  carrying  a  paint-box  and  a  large 
rolled  canvas.  The  boy  took  the  box  and  fol- 
lowed the  painter;  they  betook  themselves  to 
tlie  gallery,  and  mounted  the  same  staircase, 
which  he  remembered  well  from  the  night  when 
he  had  ridden  on  the  metal  pig.  He  recognized 
the  statues  and  pictures,  the  beautiful  marble 
Yenus,  and  the  Yenus  that  lived  in  the  pic- 
ture; and  again  he  saw  the  Madonna,  and  the 
Saviour,  and  St.  John 

They  stood  still  before  the  picture  by  Bron- 
zino,  in  which  Christ  is  descending  into  hell, 
and  the  children  smiled  around  him,  in  the  sweet 
expectation  of  heaven;  the  poor  child  smiled 
too,  for  he  felt  as  if  his  heaven  were  here. 

"  Go  home  now !"  said  the  painter,  when  the 
boy  had  stood  until  the  other  had  set  up  his 
easel. 

"May  I  see  you  paint?"  asked  the  boy. 
"  May  I  see  you  put  the  picture  upon  this  white 
©anvas  f 

"  I  am  not  going  to  paint  yet,"  replied  tlie 
man ;  and  he  brought  out  a  piece  of  white 
chalk.  His  hand  moved  quickly ;  his  eye  meas* 
ui'ed  the  great  picture,  and  though  nothing  ap 


THE    METAL    PIG.  99 

pea  red  but  a  tliin  line,  the  figure  of  tlie  Saviour 
stood  there,  as  in  the  colored  pictm-e. 

"Why  don't    jon    go?"    said  the   paintei 
And   the    boy  wandered   home   silently,    and 
seated  himself  on  the  table  and  learned  to  sew 
gloves. 

But  all  day  long  his  thoughts  were  in  the 
picture  gallery  ;  and  so  it  came  that  he  prickei^ 
his  fijigers,  and  was  awkward ;  but  he  did  not 
tease  Bellissima.  When  evening  came,  and 
when  the  house-door  stood  open,  he  crept  out. 
It  was  cold  but  starlight,  a  bright  beautiful 
evening.  Away  he  went  through  the  already 
deserted  streets,  and  soon  came  to  the  metal 
pig;  he  bent  down  on  it,  kissed  its  shining 
mouth,  and  seated  himself  on  its  back.  "  Yoi' 
happy  creature,"  he  said  :  "  how  I  have  longed 
for  you  !  we  must  take  a  ride  to-night." 

The  metal  pig  lay  motionless,  and  the  fresh 
stream  gushed  forth  from  its  mouth.  The  little 
boy  sat  astride  on  its  back;  then  something 
tugged  at  his  clothes.  He  looked  do^^'n,  and 
there  was  Bellissima, — little  smooth-shaven  Bel 
lissima, — barking  as  if  she  would  have  said 
"  Here  am  I  too,  why  are  you  sitting  there  ?" 
A.  fiery  dragon  could  not  have  terrified  the  boj 
so  much,  as  did  the  little  dog  in  this  place 


wo  THE   MET  AX    PIG. 

Bellissima  in  the  street  and  not  dressed,  on  tJie 
old  lady  called  it !  What  would  be  the  end  of 
it  ?  The  dog  never  came  out  in  winter,  except/ 
attired  in  a  little  lambskin,  wliich  had  been  cut 
out  and  made  into  a  coat  for  her ;  it  was  made 
to  fasten  with  a  red  riband  round  the  little 
dog's  neck  and  body,  and  was  adorned  with 
bows  and  with  bells.  The  dog  almost  looked 
like  a  little  kid,  when  in  winter  she  got  permis- 
sion  to  patter  out  with  mistress.  Bellissima 
was  outside  and  not  dressed !  what  would  be 
the  end  of  it?  All  his  fancies  were  put  to 
flight ;  yet  the  boy  kissed  the  metal  pig  once 
more,  and  then  took  Bellissima  on  his  arm; 
the  little  thing  trembled  with  cold,  therefore 
the  boy  ran  as  fast  as  he  could. 

"  What  are  you  running  away  with  there  ?" 
asked  two  police-soldiers  whom  he  met,  and  at 
whom  Bellissima  barked.  "  Where  have  you 
stolen  that  pretty  dog  ? "  they  asked,  and  they 
took  it  away  from  him. 

"  Oh,  give  it  back  to  me !"  cried  the  boy  de 
spairingly. 

"  If  you  have  not  stolen  him,  yon  may  say  at 
home  that  the  dog  may  be  sent  for  from  the 
watch-house," — and  they  told  him  where  the 
/^natch-house  was,  and  went  away  with  Bellis«jim  ju 


THE    MEl'Ai.    PIG.  lUj 

Here  was  a  ternble  calamity.  The  boy  did 
not  know  wliether  he  should  jump  into  tlio 
Aj*no,  01  go  home  and  confess  every  thinu  : 
'  hey  would  certainly  kill  him,  he  thought. 
^  But  I  will  gladly  be  killed ;  then  I  shall  di*i 
and  get  to  heaven,"  he  reasoned:  and  he 
went  home,  principally  with  the  idea  of  being 
killed.  '         ^^ 

The  door  was  locked,  he  could  not  reacli  the 
knocker ;  no  one  was  in  the  street,  but  a  stone 
.ay  there,  and  with  this  he  thundered  at  the 
door. 

"  Who  is  there?"  cried  somebody  from  within. 

"It  is  I,"  said  he.  "Eellissima  is  gone. 
Open  the  door,  and  then  kill  me !" 

There  was  quite  a  panic ;  Madame  wa^^  es- 
pecially concerned  for  poor  Bellissima.  She 
immediately  looked  at  the  wall,  where  the  dog's 
dress  usually  hung — and  there  was  the  littlo 
lambskin. 

"  Bellissima  in  the  watch-house  I"  she  cried 
loud.  "  You  bad  boy  !  How  did  you  entice 
her  out?  She'll  be  frozen,  the  poor  delicate 
little  thing,  among  those  rough  soldiers !" 

The  father  was  at  once  dispatched  —  the 
woman  lamented,  and  the  boy  wept.  All  the 
inhabitants  of  the  house  came  together,  and 


102  THK    MKTAL    i'Kh 

among  the  rest,  the  painter ;  he  took  the  boj 

between  his  knees  and  tpestioned  him ;  and  in 

broken  sentences  lie  lieard   the   whole   storv 

»■ 

about  the  metal  pig  and  the  gallery,  which  wa 
certainly  rather  incomprehensible.  The  painter 
consoled  the  little  fellow,  and  tried  to  calm  the 
old  lady's  anger ;  but  she  would  not  be  pacified 
until  the  father  came  in  with  Bellissima,  who  had 
been  among  the  soldiers ;  then  there  was  great 
rejoicing;  and  the  painter  caressed  the  boy, 
and  gave  him  a  handfol  of  pictures. 

Oh,  those  were  capital  pieces — such  funny 
heads ! — and  truly  the  metal  pig  was  thei-e 
among  them,  bodily.  Oh,  nothing  could  be 
more  superb !  By  means  of  a  few  strokes  it 
was  made  to  stand  there  on  the  paper,  and  even 
the  house  that  stood  behind  it  was  sketch- 
ed in. 

Oh  !  for  the  abihty  to  draw  and  paint !  He 
who  could  do  this,  could  conjure  up  the  whole 
world  around  him ! 

On  the  first  leisure  moment  of  the  following 
day,  the  little  fellow  seized  the  pencil,  and  on 
tlie  back  of  one  of  the  pictures  he  attempted  to 
copy  the  drawing  of  the  metal  pig ; — and  he 
succeeded!  It  was  certainly  rather  crooked, 
rather  up  and  down,  one  leg  thick  and  another 


THE  iiETAL  no.  103 

tlnn ,  but  still  it  was  to  be  recognized,  and  ho 
rejoiced  himself  at  it.  The  pencil  would  not 
quite  work  as  it  should  do,  that  he  could  well 
observe :  on  the  next  day  a  second  metal  pig 
was  drawn  by  the  side  of  the  first,  and  this 
looked  a  hundred  times  better ;  the  thu'd  was 
already  so  good,  that  every  one  could  tell  what 
it  was  meant  for. 

But  the  glove-making  prospered  little,  and 
the  orders  given  in  the  town  were  executed  but 
slowly  ;  for  the  metal  pig  had  taught  him  that 
all  pictures  may  be  drawn  on  paper ;  and  Flor- 
ence is  a  picture-book  for  any  one  who  chooses 
to  turn  over  its  pages.  On  the  Piazza  del 
Trinitd  stands  a  slender  pillar,  and  upon  it  the 
goddess  of  Justice  blindfolded,  and  with  her 
scales  in  her  hand.  Soon  she  was  placed  on 
the  paper ;  and  it  was  the  glove-maker's  little 
boy  who  placed  her  there.  The  collection  of 
pictures  increased,  but  as  yet  it  only  contained 
representations  of  lifeless  objects;  when  one 
day  Bellissima  came  gambolling  before  him. 
"  Stand  still !"  said  he,  "  then  you  shall  be  made 
beautiful  and  put  into  my  collection  I"  But 
Bellissima  would  not  stand  still,  she  had  to 
be  bound  fast;  her  head  and  tail  were  tied, 
and  she  barked  and  jumped,  and  the  string  had 


104  rriE  MET  AX  pig. 

to  be  pulled  tight ;  and  tlien  the  signora 
«iarac  in. 

•'  You  wicked  boy  !  The  poor  creature  1'^ 
vas  all  she  could  utter;  and  she  pushed  llio 
hoy  aside,  thrust  him  away  with  her  foot,  for- 
bade him  to  enter  her  house  again,  and  called 
him  a  most  ungrateful  good-for-nothing  and  a 
wicked  boy ;  and  then  weeping,  she  kissed  her 
little  half-strangled  Bellissima. 

At  this  very  moment  the  painter  came  down- 
stairs, and  here  is  the  turning  point  of  the 
story. 

In  the  year  1834  there  was  an  exhibition  in 
the  Academy  of  Arts  at  Florence.  Two  pic- 
tures, placed  side  by  side,  collected  a  number 
of  spectators.  The  smaller  of  the  two  repre- 
sented a  merry  little  boy  who  sat  drawing,  with 
a  little  white  Spitz-dog,  cm-iously  shorn,  for  his 
model ;  but  the  animal  would  not  stand  still, 
and  was  therefore  bound  by  a  string,  fastened 
to  its  head  and  its  tail ;  there  was  a  truth  and 
life  in  this  picture,  that  interested  every  one. 
The  painter  was  said  to  be  a  young  Florentine, 
who  had  been  found  in  tlie  streets  in  his  child- 
hood, had  been  brought  up  by  an  old  glove- 
maker,  and  had  taught  liimself  to  draw.  It 
was  further  said  that  a  painter,  now  become 


THE   METAL   PIG.  lOc 

famous,  Lad  discovered  this  talent  just  as  tlie 
boy  was  to  be  sent  away  for  tying  up  the  favor- 
ite little  dog  of  Madame,  and  using  it  as  a 
model. 

The  glove-maker  s  Doy  had  become  a  great 
painter,  the  picture  proved  this,  and  still  more 
the  larger  picture  that  stood  beside  it.  Hero 
was  represented  only  one  figure,  a  handsome 
boy,  clad  in  rags,  asleep  in  the  streets,  and 
leaning  against  the  metal  pig  in  the  Porta  Rosa 
street.  All  the  spectators  knew  the  spot.  The 
child's  arms  rested  upon  the  head  of  the  pig ; 
the  little  fellov/  was  so  fast  asleep — the  lamp 
before  the  pictm-e  of  the  Madonna  thi-ew  a 
strong  effective  light  on  the  pale  delicate  face 
of  the  child — it  was  a  beautiful  picture!  A 
great  gilt  trame  surrounded  it,  and  on  one  cor- 
ner of  the  frame  a  laurel  wreath  had  been  hung ; 
but  a  black  band  wound  unseen  among  the 
green  leaves,  and  a  streamer  of  crape  hung 
down  from  it;  for  within  the  last  few  daja 
the  young  artist  had — died  I 


THE    MONET    PIG, 


^^N"  the  nursery  a  number  of  toys  lay 
strewn  about.  High  up,  on  the  ward- 
robe, stood  the  money-box,  made  of  clay 
and  purchased  of  the  potter,  and  it  was 
in  the  shape  of  a  little  pig :  of  course  the 
pig  had  a  slit  in  its  back ;  and  this  slit 
had  been  so  enlarged  with  a  knife,  that  whol© 
dollar  pieces  could  slip  through ;  and,  indeed, 
two  such  had  slipped  into  the  box,  besides  a 
number  of  pence.  The  money-pig  was  stuffed 
BO  full  that  it  could  no  longer  rattle,  and  that 
is  the  highest  point  of  perfection  a  money-pig 
can  attain.  There  it  stood  upon  the  cupboard, 
high  and  lofty,  looking  down  upon  every  thing 
else  in  the  room :  it  knew  very  well  that  what 
it  had  in  its  stomach  would  have  bought  all  the 
toys,  and  that's  what  we  call  having  self- 
respect. 

The  others  thought  of  that  too,  even  if  they 
did  not  exactly  express  it,  for  there  were  many 


THE   MONEY   PIG.  107 

Other  things  to  speak  of.  One  of  the  drawers 
was  lialf  pulled  out,  and  there  lay  a  great  hand- 
some doll,  though  she  was  somewhat  old,  and 
her  neck  had  been  mended.  She  looked  out 
and  said,  "  Now  we'll  play  at  men  and  women, 
for  that  is  always  something  !"  And  now  there 
was  a  general  uproar,  and  even  the  framed 
prints  on  the  walls  turned  round  and  showed 
that  there  was  a  wrong  side  to  them ;  but  they 
did  not  do  it  to  protest  against  the  proposal. 

It  was  late  at  night ;  the  moon  shone  through 
the  window  frames  and  afforded  the  cheapest 
light.  The  game  was  now  to  begin,  and  all. 
even  the  children's  go-cart,  which  certainly  be- 
longed to  the  coarser  playthings,  were  invited 
to  take  part  in  the  sport. 

'•  Each  one  has  his  own  peculiar  value !"  said 
the  go-cart:  ''we  cannot  all  be  noblemen  J 
There  must  be  some  who  do  the  work,  as  the 
saying  is."  The  money-pig  was  the  only  one 
vvho  received  a  written  invitation,  for  he  was 
of  high  standing,  and  they  were  afraid  he  woidd 
not  accept  the  verbal  message.  Indeed,  he  did 
ot  answer  to  say  whether  he  would  come. 
Kor  did  he  come ;  if  he  was  to  take  a  part,  ho 
must  enjoy  the  sport  from  his  own  home :  they 
were  to  arrange  accordingly,  and  so  they  did. 


106  'J'flK    MONEY    J'lu 

The  little  toy-tlieatre  was  nov/  put  up  m  i\id; 
a  way  that  the  money-pig  could  look  directly  in. 
They  wanted  to  begin  with  a  comedy ;  and  af 
terwards  there  was  to  be  a  tea-party,  and  a  dis- 
cussion for  mental  improvement,  and  with  this 
latter  part  they  began  immediately.  The  rock- 
ing-horse spoke  of  training  and  race ;  the  go- 
cart  of  railways  and  steam-power,  for  all  this 
belonged  to  their  profession,  and  it  was  quite 
right  they  should  talk  of  it.  The  clock  talked 
politics — ticks — ticks,  and  knew  what  was  the 
time  of  day,  though  it  was  whispered  he  did 
not  go  correctly  :  the  bamboo  cane  stood  there, 
Btift'  and  proud,  for  he  was  conceited  about  his 
brass  ferule  and  his  silver  top,  for  being  thus 
bound  above  and  below:  on  the  softi  lay  two 
worked  cushions,  pretty  and  stupid.  And  now 
the  play  began. 

All  sat  and  looked  on,  and  it  was  requested 
the  audience  should  applaud,  and  crack  and 
stamp  according  as  they  w^ere  gratified.  But 
the  riding-whip  said  he  never  cracked  for  old 
»)eople,  only  for  young  ones  who  were  not  yet 
married.  "  I  crack  for  every  thing,"  said  the 
cracker ;  and  these  were  the  thoughts  they  had 
while  the  play  went  on.  The  piece  was  worth- 
less, but  it  was  well  played ;  all  the  characters 


THE   MONEY    PIG.  109 

turned  their  painted  side  to  the  audience,  for 
they  were  so  made  thiat  they  should  only  be 
looked  at  from  that  side,  and  not  from  the 
other ;  and  all  played  wonderfully  well,  com^ 
iiig  out  quite  beyond  the  lamps,  because  the 
wires  were  a  little  too  long,  but  that  only  made 
them  come  out  the  more.  The  darned  doll 
was  quite  exhausted  with  excitement — so  thor- 
oughly exhausted  that  she  burst  at  the  darned 
place  in  her  neck ;  and  the  money-pig  was  so 
enchanted  in  his  way,  that  he  formed  the  reso- 
lution to  do  something  for  one  of  the  players, 
and  to  remember  him  in  his  will  as  the  one 
who  should  be  buried  with  him  in  the  family 
vault,  when  matters  were  so  far  advanced. 

It  was  true  enjoyment ;  such  true  enjoyment 
that  they  quite  gave  up  the  thoughts  of  tea, 
and  only  carried  out  the  idea  of  mental  recrea- 
tion. That's  what  they  called  playing  at  men 
and  women,  and  there  was  nothing  '^Tong  in 
it,  for  they  were  only  playing ;  and  each  one 
thought  of  himself  and  what  the  money-pig 
might  tliink;  and  the  money-j^ig  thought  fui'» 
thest  of  all,  for  he  thought  of  making  his  will 
and  of  his  burial.  And  wJien  might  this  come  to 
pass?  Certainly  far  sooner  than  was  expected. 
Crack  !  it  fell  down  from  the  cupboard, — feJl  oii 


110  THE   MONEY    PIG. 

tlie  ground,  and  was  broken  to  pieces ;  and  tbfi 
pennies  hopped  and  danced  in  comical  style : 
the  little  ones  turned  round  like  tops,  and  the 
bigger  ones  rolled  away,  particularly  the  on 
great  silver  dollar,  who  wanted  to  go  out  intc 
the  world.  And  he  came  out  into  the  world^ 
and  they  all  succeeded  in  doing  so ;  and  the 
pieces  of  the  money-pig  were  put  into  the  dust- 
bin :  but  the  next  day  a  new  money-pig  was 
standing  on  the  cupboard;  it  had  not  yet  a 
farthing  in  its  stomach,  and  therefore  could  not 
rattle,  and  in  this  it  was  like  the  other — and 
that  was  a  beginning — and  with  that  we  will 
make  an  end 


THE  WICKED   PRINCE 


^^55^5  HEEE  was  once  a  wicked  Prince 
His  aim  and  object  was  to  conquer 
all  the  conntries  in  the  world,  and  tc 
inspire  all  men  with  fear;  he  went 
about  with  fire  and  sword,  and  his 
soldiers  trampled  down  the  corn  in 
the  fields,  and  set  fire  to  the  peasant's 
house,  so  that  the  red  flames  licked  the  leaves 
from  the  trees,  and  the  fi'uit  hung  bm-nt  on  the 
black  charred  branches.  With  her  naked  baby 
in  her  arms,  many  a  poor  mother  took  refuge 
behind  the  still  smoking  walls  of  her  burnt 
house;  but  here  even  the  soldiers  sought  for 
their  victims,  and  if  they  found  them  it  was 
new  food  for  their  demoniac  fury :  evil  spirits 
could  not  have  raged  worse  than  did  these  sol- 
diers ;  but  the  Prince  thought  their  deeds  were 
right,  and  that  it  must  be  so.  Every  day  his 
power  Increased ;  his  name  was  feared  by  all, 

m 


112  THE    WICKED    PSINCE. 

and  fortune  accompanied  liim  in  all  his  actions 
Fi'om  conquered  countries  lie  brought  vast 
treasures  home;  in  his  capital  an  amount  ol 
wealth  was  heaped,  unequalled  in  any  otJiei 
place.  And  he  caused  gorgeous  palaces,  church 
es,  and  halls  to  he  built,  and  every  one  who  saw 
those  great  buildings  and  these  vast  treasures 
cried  out  respectfully,  "  What  a  great  Prince !" 
They  thought  not  of  the  misery  he  had  brought 
upon  other  lands  and  cities ;  they  heard  not  all 
the  sighs  and  all  the  mournings  that  arose  from 
among  the  ruins  of  demolished  towns. 

The  Prince  looked  upon  his  gold,  and  upon 
his  mighty  buildings,  and  his  thoughts  were 
like  those  of  the  crowd,  "  What  a  great  Prince 
am  I !  But,"  so  his  thought  ran  on,  "  I  must 
have  more,  far  more  !  'No  power  may  be  equal 
to  mine,  much  less  exceed  it !"  And  he  made 
war  upon  all  his  neighbors,  and  overcame  them 
all.  The  conquered  kings  he  caused  to  be 
bound  with  fetters  of  gold  to  his  chariot,  and 
tlmrs  he  drove  through  the  streets  of  his  capital : 
when  he  banqueted,  those  kings  were  compelled 
to  kneel  at  his  feet,  and  at  the  feet  of  his  cour- 
tiers, and  to  receive  the  broken  pieces  which 
v*^ere  thrown  to  them  from  the  table. 

At  last  the  Prince  caused  his  own  statue  to 


TiiJ!:    WICKED    PliUsCE.  113 

be  set  up  in  the  open  squares  and  in  the  royal 
palaces,  and  he  even  wislied  to  place  it  in  tlie 
churches  hefore  the  altars;  but  here  the  priests 
Btood  up  against  him,  and  said,  "Prince,  tliou 
ai-t  mighty,  but  heaven  is  mightier,  and  we  dare 
not  fulfil  thy  commands." 

"  Good,  then,"  said  the  Prince,  "^  I  will  van- 
quish heaven  likewise."  And  in  his  pride  and 
impious  haughtiness  he  caused  a  costly  ship  to 
be  built,  in  which  he  could  sail  through  the  air : 
it  was  gay  and  glaring  to  behold,  like  the  tail 
of  a  peacock,  and  studded  and  covered  with 
thousands  of  eyes  ;  but  each  eye  w^as  the  muz- 
zle of  a  gun.  The  Prince  sat  in  the  midst  of 
the  ship,  and  needed  only  to  press  on  a  s})ring, 
and  a  thousand  bullets  flew  out  on  all  sides, 
while  the  gun-baiTels  were  reloaded  immedi- 
ately. Hundreds  of  eagles  w^ere  harnessed  in 
front  of  the  ship,  and  with  the  speed  of  an 
an'ow  they  flew  upwards  towards  the  sun. 
How  deep  the  earth  lay  below  them !  With 
its  mountains  and  forests  it  seemed  but  a  field 
through  which  the  plough  had  drawn  its  fur- 
fow^s,  and  along  which  the  green  bank  rose 
covered  with  turf ;  soon  it  appeared  only  like  a 
flat  map  with  indistinct  lines,  and  at  laat  it  lay 
completely  hidden  in  mist  and  cloud.     Ever 


114r  THE    AVICKKD    PKINCE. 

higher  flew  the  eagles  up  into  the  air :  then  ono 
of  tlie  innumerable  angels  appeared.  The 
wicked  Prince  hurled  thousands  of  bullets 
against  him ;  but  the  bullets  sprang  back  from 
the  angel's  shining  pinions,  and  fell  down  like 
Bommon  hailstones ;  but  a  drop  of  blood,  one 
single  drop,  fell  from  one  of  the  white  wing- 
feathers,  and  this  drop  fell  upon  the  ship  in 
which  the  Prince  sat,  and  burnt  its  w^ay  deep 
into  the  ship,  and  weighing  like  a  thousand 
hundred -weight  of  lead,  dragged  down  the  ship 
in  headlong  fall  towards  the  earth ;  the  strong- 
est pinions  of  the  eagles  broke,  the  wind  roared 
round  the  Prince's  head,  and  the  clouds  aroused 
— formed  from  the  smoke  of  burned  cities — 
drew  themselves  together  in  threatening  shapes 
like  huge  sea-crabs,  stretching  forth  their  claws 
and  nippers  towards  him,  and  piled  themselves 
up  in  great  overshadowing  rocks,  with  crush- 
ing fragments  rolling  down  them ;  and  then  to 
fiery  dragons,  till  the  Pidnce  lay  half  dead  in 
the  ship,  which  at  last  was  caught  with  a  terri- 
ble shock  in  the  thick  branches  of  a  forest. 

"  I  will  conquer  heaven,"  said  the  Prince 
*  I  have  sworn  it,  and  my  will  must  be  done !' 
and  for  seven  years  he  caused  his  men  to  work 
at  making  ships  for  sailin    through  the  air,  and 


THE    WICKED    PRINCE.  IJo 

had  thunderbolts  made  of  the  hardest  steel,  foi 
he  wished  to  stonn  the  fortress  of  heaven  :  out 
of  all  his  dominions  he  gathered  armies  together, 
BO  that  when  they  w^ere  draw^n  up  in  rank  and 
file  they  covered  a  space  of  several  miles.  The 
arniies  went  on  board  the  ships,  and  the  Prince 
approached  his  own  vessel ;  then  there  was  sent 
out  against  him  a  swarm  of  gnats,  a  single  little 
Bwarm  of  gnats.  The  swarm  buzzed  round  the 
Prince,  and  stung  his  face  and  hands ;  raging 
with  anger  he  di'ew  his  sword,  and  struck 
all  around  him ;  but  he  only  struck  the  empty 
air,  for  he  could  not  hit  the  gnats.  Then 
he  commanded  his  people  to  bring  costly  hang- 
mgs,  and  to  wrap  them  around  him,  so  that  no 
gnat  might  further  sting  him ;  and  the  ser- 
vants did  as  he  commanded  them.  But  a  single 
gnat  had  attached  itself  to  the  inner  side  oi 
the  hangings,  and  crept  into  the  ear  of  the 
Prince,  and  stung  him ;  it  burned  like  fire,  and 
the  poison  penetrated  to  his  brain  :  like  a  mad- 
man he  tore  the  hangings  from  his  body  and 
hurled  them  far  aw^ay,  tore  his  clothes  and  danced 
about  naked  before  the  eyes  of  his  rude,  savage 
soldiers,  wlio  now  jeered  at  the  mad  Prince, 
who  wanted  to  overcome  heaven,  and  who  him 
self  was  conquered  l)y  one  single  little  gnat. 


CHILDREN'S    PRATTLE 


T  the  rich  merchant's  there  was  a  chil- 
dren's party;  rich  people's  children 
and  grand  people's  children  were 
there.  The  merchant  was  a  learned 
man ;  he  had  once  gone  through  the 
college  examination,  for  his  honest 
father  had  kept  him  to  this,  his  father 
who  had  at  first  only  been  a  cattle-dealer,  but 
always  an  honest  and  industrious  man;  the 
trade  had  brought  money,  and  the  merchant 
had  managed  to  increase  the  store.  Clever  he 
was,  and  he  had  also  a  heart,  but  there  was  less 
said  of  his  heart  than  of  his  money.  At  the 
merchant's,  grand  people  went  in  and  out; 
people  of  blood,  as  it  is  called,  and  people  of 
intellect,  and  people  who  had  both  of  these, 
and  people  who  had  neither.  Now  there  was 
a  children's  party  there,  and  children's  prattle ; 
and    children    speak    fi-rmkly  from   tlie  heart. 


CniLDREJSr'S   PEATTLE.  117 

A  mono:  tlie  rest  there  was  a  beautiful  little 
gir],  but  the  little  one  was  terribly  proud:  but 
the  servants  had  taught  her  that,  not  her 
parents,  who  were  far  too  sensible  people.  Hei 
father  was  a  groom  of  the  bedchamber,  and  that 
is  a  very  grand  office,  and  she  knew  it. 

"  I  am  a  child  of  the  bedchamber,"  she  said. 
Now  she  might  just  as  well  have  been  a  child 
of  the  cellar,  for  nobody  can  help  his  birth ; 
and  then  she  told  the  other  children  that  slie 
was  "  well-born,"  and  said  "  that  no  one  who 
was  not  well-born  could  get  on  far  in  the 
world ;  it  was  of  no  use  to  read  and  to  be  indus- 
trious, if  one  was  not  well-born  one  could  not 
achieve  any  thing. " 

"  And  those  whose  names  end  ^^th  *  sen,' " 
said  she,  "  they  cannot  be  any  thing  at  all ! 
One  must  put  one's  arms  akimbo  and  make  the 
elbows  quite  pointed,  and  keep  them  at  a  great 
distance,  these  'sen!  sen!'"  And  she  struck 
out  her  pretty  little  arms,  and  made  the  elbows 
quite  pointed,  to  show  how  it  was  to  be  done, 
and  her  little  arms  were  very  pretty.  She  was 
a  sweet  little  girl. 

But  the  little  daughter  of  the  merchant  be- 
came very  angry  at  this  speech,  for  her  father's 
name  was  Petersen,  and  slieknev;  tliat  tlie  name 


CHILDREN  6    PRATTLE. 

ended  in  "sen,"  and  tlierefore  she  said,  od 
proudly  as  ever  she  could — 

"  But  my  papa  can  buy  a  hundred  dollars' 
worth  of  bon-bons  and  strew  them  to  the  chil- 
di-en  !     Can  yom*  papa  do  that  ?" 

"  Yes,  but  my  papa,"  said  an  author's  little 
daughter,  "my  papa  can  put  your  papa  and 
everybody's  papa  into  the  newspaper.  All  peo- 
]>le  are  afraid  of  him,  my  mamma  says,  for  it  is 
my  father  who  rules  in  the  newspaper." 

And  the  little  maiden  looked  exceedingly 
proud,  as  though  she  had  been  a  real  princess, 
who  is  expected  to  look  proud. 

But  outside,  at  the  door  which  was  ajar, 
stood  a  poor  boy,  peeping  through  the  crack  ol 
the  door.  He  was  of  such  lowly  station  that 
he  was  not  even  allowed  to  enter  the  room.  He 
had  tm-ned  the  spit  for  the  cook,  and  she  had 
allowed  him  to  stand  behind  the  door,  and  to 
look  at  the  well-dressed  children  who  were 
making  a  merry  day  within,  and  for  him  that 
was  a  great  deal. 

"  Oh,  to  be  one  of  them  !'■  thought  he ;  and 
tlien  he  heard  what  was  said,  which  was  cer- 
tainly calculated  to  make  him  very  unha]> 
py.  "  His  parents  at  home  had  not  a  penny  to 
spare  to  buy  a  newspaper,  much  less  could  tliey 


PEATILE.  119 

write  one;  and  what  was  worst  of  all,  liis 
father's  name,  and  consequently  his  own,  ended 
completely  in  '  sen,'  and  so  he  could  not  turn 
out  well.  That  was  terrible.  But  after  all,  ha 
had  been  born,  and  very  well  born  as  it  seemed 
to  him ;  that  could  not  be  otherwise." 
And  that  is  what  was  done  on  that  evening. 


Many  years  have  elapsed  since  then,  and  m 
the  course  of  years  children  become  grown-up 
persons. 

In  the  town  stood  a  splendid  house ;  it  wan 
filled  with  all  kinds  of  beautifal  objects  and 
treasures,  and  all  people  wished  to  see  it,  even 
people  who  dwelt  out  of  town  came  in  to  see  it. 
.Which  of  the  children  of  whom  we  have  told 
might  call  this  house  his  own?  To  know 
that  is  very  easy.  'No,  no ;  it  is  not  so  very 
easy.  The  house  belonged  to  the  poor  little 
boy  who  had  stood  on  that  night  behind  the 
door,  and  he  had  become  something  great,  al 
though  his  name  ended  in  "  sen," — Thorwald 
Ben. 

And  the  three  other  children — the  children 
of  hlood  and  of  money,  and  of  spiritual  pride  1 


120 


OHH^bREK  S   PRAITLP:. 


W^ell,  tliey  Lad  notliing  wlievewitli  to  re])r<jacli 

ach  otlier — they  tui'iied  out  well  enougli,  foi 

wliej  had  been  well  dowered  bj  nature- —and 

ivhat  the  J  had  thought  and  spoken  on  tlui 

veniug  long  asjo  was  mere  childrerC s  j^'aiii^ 


TWO    BROTHERS 


K  one  of  the  Dauisli  islands  wliere  old 
^  ,j  Tliingstones,  tlie  seats  of  justice  of  our 
y\jlA  foi'^fatliers,  are  fonnd  in  tlie  fields,  and 
great  trees  tower  in  the  beechwoods, 
there  lies  a  little  to^vn,  whose  low 
houses  are  covered  with  red  tiles.  In 
one  of  these  houses  wondrous  things 
were  brewed  over  glowing  coals  on  the  open 
hearth :  there  was  a  boiling  in  glasses,  a  mixing 
and  a  distilling,  and  herbs  were  cut  up,  and 
bruised  in  mortars,  and  an  elderly  man  attended 
to  all  this. 

"  One  must  only  do  the  right  thing,"  said  he, 
^yes,  the  right  thing;    one   must  learn   the 
truth  about  eveiy  created  particle,  and  keep 
lose  to  this  truth." 

In  the  room  with  the  good  housewife  sat  her 
two  sons,  still  small;  but  with  grown-up 
thoughts.     The  mother  had  ab>vay3  spoken  tc 


122  TWO   BE0THER8. 

them  of  right  and  justice,  and  had  cxl  ./rted 
them  to  hold  truth  fast,  declaring  that  - »  vcas 
as  the  countenance  of  the  Almighty  in  tliia 
world. 

The  elder  of  the  boys  looked  rogaish,  and 
enterprising :  it  was  his  dehght  to  read  of  the 
forces  of  nature,  of  the  sun  and  of  the  stars ; 
no  fairy  tale  pleased  him  so  much  as  these. 
Oh !  how  glorious  it  must  be,  he  thought,  to  go 
out  on  voyages  of  discovery,  or  to  find  out  how 
the  wings  of  birds  could  be  imitated,  and  then 
to  fly  through  the  air !  Yes,  to  find  that  out 
would  be  the  right  thing ;  father  was  right,  and 
mother  was  right,  truth  keeps  the  world  to- 
gether. 

The  younger  brother  was  quieter,  and  quite 
lost  himself  in  books.  When  he  read  of  Jacob 
clothing  himself  in  sheepskins  to  be  like  Esau^ 
and  to  cheat  his  brother  of  his  birthright,  his 
little  fist  would  clench  in  anger  against  the 
deceiver ;  when  he  read  of  tyrants,  and  of  all 
the  wickedness  and  wrong  that  is  in  the  world, 
the  tears  stood  in  his  eyes,  and  he  was  quite 
filled  with  the  thought  of  the  right  and  truth 
which  must  and  will  at  last  be  triumphant. 
One  evening  he  already  lay  in  bed ;  but  the 
curtains  were  not  yet  drawn  close,  and  theliirh* 


TWO   BROTHERS.  123 

etreamed  in  •upon  Mm :  lie  liad  talven  the  book 
with  him  to  bed,  because  he  wanted  to  finish 
the  story  of  Solon. 

And  his  thoughts  lifted  and  carried  him 
away  marvellously,  and  it  seemed  to  him  that 
bis  bed  became  a  ship,  careering  onward  with 
swelling  sails.  Did  he  dream?  or  what  was 
happening  to  him  ?  It  glided  onward  over  the 
rolling  waters  and  the  great  ocean  of  time,  and 
he  heard  the  voice  of  Solon.  In  a  strange 
tongue,  and  yet  intelligible  to  him,  he  heard 
the  Danish  motto,  "With  law  the  land  is 
ruled." 

And  the  Genius  of  the  human  race  stood  in 
the  humble  room,  and  bent  down  over  the  bed, 
and  printed  a  kiss  on  the  boy's  forehead.  "  Be 
thou  strong  in  fame,  and  strong  in  the  battle  of 
life !  With  the  tnith  in  thy  breast,  fly  thou 
towards  the  land  of  truth !" 

The  elder  brother  was  not  yet  in  bed ;  he 
stood  at  tiie  v^indow  gazing  out  at  the  mists 
that  rose  from  the  meadows.  They  were  not 
elves  dancing  there,  as  the  old  muse  had  told 
him ;  he  knew  better ;  they  were  vapors,  warm- 
er than  the  air,  and  that  consequently  mourted. 
A  shooting-star  gleamed  athwart  the  sky,  and 
the  thoughts  of  the  boy  were  roused  from  the 


124  TWO   BROTHERS. 

mists  of  tlie  earth  to  the  shining  meteor.  Th« 
stars  of  heaven  twinkled,  and  golden  thi-eada 
seemed  to  hang  from  them  down  upon  the 
earth. 

"Fly  with  me,"  it  sang  and  somided  in  tho 
boy's  heart,  and  the  mighty  genius,  swifter  than 
the  bird,  than  the  arrow,  than  any  thing  that 
flies  with  earthly  means,  carried  him  aloft  to 
the  region  w^here  rays  stretching  from  star  to 
star  bind  the  heavenly  bodies  to  each  other — 
om*  earth  revolved  in  the  thin  air — the  cities 
on  its  sm-face  seemed  quite  close  together,  and 
through  the  sphere  it  sounded :  "  What  is  near, 
what  is  far,  when  the  mighty  genius  of  mind 
lifts  them  up  V 

And  again  the  boy  stood  at  the  window  and 
gazed  forth,  and  the  younger  brother  lay  in  his 
bed,  and  their  mother  called  them  by  their 
names,  "Anders  Sandoe"  and  "Hans  Chris- 
tian!" 

Denmark  knows  them  —  the  worV  knows 
ihem — the  two  brothers  Oersted. 


BY  THE 


ALMSHOUSPJ    WINDOW 


f^^^^f^  EAR  the  grass-covered  rampart  wliict 
L    encircles  Copenliagen  lies  a  great  red 
y   house;    balsams    and   other    flowers 
greet  ns  from  the  long  rows  of  win- 
dows in  the  house,  whose  interior  k 
sufficiently  poverty-stricken ;  and  poor 
and  old  are  the  people  who  inhabit  it 
Tlie  building  is  the  Warton  Almshouse. 

Look!  at  the  window  there  leans  an  old 
maid;  she  plucks  the  w^ithered  leaf  from  the 
balsam  and  looks  at  the  grass-covered  rampart, 
on  which  many  children  are  playing.  What  is 
the  old  maid  thinking  of?  A  whole  life-di-ama 
is  unfolding  itself  before  her  inward  gaze. 

The  poor  little  children,  how  happy  they  are, 
liow  merrily  they  play  and  romp  together  1 
What  red  cheeks  and  what  angels'  eyes !  but 
they  have  no  shoes  nor  stockings.  They  danced 
on  the  green  rampart,  just  on  the  place  where, 


120  lii'   niE  ALMHiiv  U6E  \vrNi:>ow. 

according  to  tlie  old  story,  the  ground  always 
sank  in,  and  where  a  sportive  frolicsome  child 
bad  been  lured  by  means  of  flowers,  toys,  and 
sweetmeats  into  an  open  grave  ready  dug  for 
il,  and  which  was  afterwards  closed  over  the 
child  ; — and  from  that  moment,  the  old  story 
Bays,  the  ground  gave  way  no  longer,  the  mound 
remained  firm  and  fast,  and  was  quickly  cov- 
ered with  fine  green  turf.  The  little  people 
who  now  play  on  that  spot  know  nothing  of 
the  old  tale,  else  would  they  fancy  they  heard 
the  child  cryi^.g  deep  below  the  earth,  and  the 
dew-drops  on  each  blade  of  grass  would  be  to 
them  tears  of  woe.  JSTor  do  they  know  any 
thing  of  the  Danish  king,  who  here,  in  the  face 
of  the  cunning  foe,  took  an  oath  before  all  his 
trembling  courtiers,  that  he  would  hold  out 
with  the  citiiiens  of  his  capital,  and  die  here  in 
his  nest ; — they  knew  nothing  of  the  men  Avho 
had  fought  here,  or  of  the  women  who  from 
here  had  drenched  with  boiling  water  the  ene- 
my, clad  in  white,  and  abiding  in  the  snow  to 
surprise  the  city. 

'Nol  the  poor  little  ones  are  playing  with 
light  childish  spu-its.  Play  on,  play  on,  thou 
little  maiden  I  Soon  the  years  will  come — yes, 
tliose  glorious  years.     The  priestly  hands  have 


BY    THE   ALMSHOUSE    WINDOW.  127 

been  laid  on  the  candidates  for  confine  ati  on : 
hand  in  hand  thej  walk  on  the  green  rampart ; 
thou  hast  a  white  frock  on,  it  has  cost  thy 
mother  much  labor,  and  jet  it  is  only  cu 
down  for  thee  out  of  an  old  and  larger  dress 
You  will  also  wear  a  red  shawl ;  and  what  if  it 
hang  too  far  down  ?  People  will  only  see  how 
large,  how  very  large  it  is.  You  are  thinking 
of  your  dress,  and  of  the  Giver  of  all  good ;  so 
glorious  is  it  to  wander  on  the  green  ram 
parti 

And  the  years  roll  by ;  they  have  no  lack  of 
dark  days,  but  you  have  your  cheerful  young 
spirit,  and  you  have  gained  a  friend,  you  know 
not  how.  You  met,  oh,  how  often !  You  walk 
together  on  the  rampart  in  the  fresh  spring,  on 
the  high  days  and  holidays,  when  all  the  world 
come  out  to  walk  on  the  ramparts,  and  all  the 
bells  of  the  church  steeples  seem  to  be  singing 
a  song  of  praise  for  the  coming  spring. 

Scarcely  have  the  violets  come  forth ; — but 
there  on  the  rampart,  just  opposite  the  beauti- 
ful castle  of  Kosenberg,  there  is  a  tree  bright 
with  the  first  green  buds.  Every  year  this  tre<> 
sends  forth  fresh  green  shoots ; — alas,  it  is  not 
so  \\"itli  the  human  heart.  Dark  mists,  more 
in  number  than  those  that  cover  the  northern 


128  HY  THE   ALMSHOUSE    WIOTjOW. 

skies,  cloud  tlie  liiiman  licart.  Poor  cliild — tlijp 
friend's  bridal  chamber  is  a  black  coffin,  and 
thou  becomest  an  old  maid.  From  the  alms- 
house window  behind  the  balsams  thou  shalt 
look  on  the  merry  children  at  play,  and  shalt 
see  thy  own  history  renewed. 

And  that  is  the  life-drama  that  passes  before 
the  old  maid,  wliile  she  looks  out  upon  the 
rampart,  the  green  sunny  rampart,  where  the 
children  with  their  red  cheeks  and  bare  shoo- 
less  feet  are  rejoicing  merrily,  like  the  other 
free  little  birds. 


GRANDMOTHER 


RA:N'DM0THEK  is  very  old ;  she  hai 
many  wrinkles,  and  her  hair  is  quite 
white;  but  her  eyes,  which  are  like 
two  stars,  and  even  more  beantiful, 
look  at  you  mildly  and  pleasantly,  and 
it  does  you  good  to  look  into  them. 
And  then  she  can  tell  the  most  won- 
derful stories ;  and  she  has  a  gown,  with  great 
flowers  worked  in  it,  and  it  is  of  heavy  silk, 
and  it  rustles.  Grandmother  knows  a  great 
deal,  for  she  was  alive  before  father  and  mother, 
that's  quite  certain  !  Grandmother  has  a  hymn- 
book,  with  great  silver  clasps,  and  she  often 
reads  in  that  book :  in  the  middle  of  the  book 
lies  a  rose,  quite  flat  and  dry;  it  is  not  a;-: 
])retty  as  the  roses  she  has  standing  in  the 
glass,  and  yet  she  smiles  at  it  most  pleasantlj 
of  all,  and  tears  even  come  into  her  eyes.  I 
wonder  why  grandmother  looks  at  the  withered 


130  GRAI^DMOTHEP.. 

flower  in  the  old  book  in  tliat  way  ?  Do  yon 
know?  Wliy,  each  time  that  grandmother'f? 
tears  fall  upon  the  rose  its  colors  become  fresh 
again ;  the  rose  swells  and  fills  the  whole  room 
^vith  its  fragrance;  the  walls  sink  as  if  they 
were  but  mist,  and  all  around  her  is  the  glori- 
ous green  wood,  where  in  summer  the  sunlight 
streams  through  the  leaves  of  the  trees;  and 
grandmother — why  she  is  young  again,  a  charm- 
ing maiden  with  light  curls  and  full  blooming 
cheeks,  pretty  and  graceful,  fresh  as  any  rose ; 
but  the  eyes,  the  mild  blessed  eyes,  they  have 
been  left  to  grandmother.  At  her  side  sits  a 
young  man,  tall  and  strong ;  he  gives  the  rose 
to  her,  and  she  smiles;  grandmother  cannot 
smile  thus  now ! — ^yes,  now  she  smiles !  But 
now  he  has  passed  away,  and  many  thoughts 
and  many  forms  of  the  past,  and  the  handsdme 
young  man  is  gone,  and  the  rose  hes  in  the 
hymn-book,  and  grandmother  she  sits  there 
again,  an  old  woman,  and  glances  down  at  the 
withered  rose  that  lies  in  the  book. 

Now  grandmother  is  dead.  She  had  beci 
Bitting  in  her  arm-chair,  and  telling  a  long 
long  capital  tale ;  and  she  said  the  tale  was  told 
now,  and  she  was  tired,  and  she  leaned  her 
head  back  to  sleep  awhile.     One  could  hear 


GRANDMOTH  EB.  £  3 1 

her  brcJli"g  as  she  slept;  but  it  became 
quieter  asid  ;Dv)re  quiet,  and  her  ct»untenauce 
was  fuJl  of  Lapviness  and  peace;  it  seemed  as 
^if  a  sunsniue  spread  over  her  features ;  and  sho 
emiled  again,  ai.d  then  the  people  said  she  was 
dead. 

She  was  laid  in  the  black  coffin;  and  there 
she  lay  shrouded  in  the  white  linen  folds,  look- 
ing beajitiful  and  mild,  though  her  eyes  were 
closed;  but  every  wrinkle  bad  vanished,  and 
there  was  a  smile  around  her  mouth ;  her  hair 
was  silver-white  and  venerable,  and  we  did  not 
feel  at  all  afraid  to  look  at  the  corpse  of  her 
who  had  been  the  dear  good  grandmother. 
And  the  hymn-book  was  placed  imder  her  head, 
for  she  had  wished  it  so,  and  the  rose  was  still 
in  the  old  book ;  and  then  they  buried  grand- 
mother. 

On  the  grave,  close  by  the  churchyard  wall, 
they  planted  a  rose-tree,  and  it  was  full  of  roses, 
and  the  nightingale  flew  singing  over  the 
flowers  and  over  the  grave ;  in  the  church  the 
finest  psalms  sounded  from  the  organ;  the 
psalms  that  were  written  in  the  old  book  under 
the  dead  one's  head.  The  moon  shone  down 
upon  the  grave ;  but  the  dead  one  was  not 
here :  every  child  could  go  safely,  even  at  night, 


152  GKANDMOTHER. 

and  pluck  a  rose  there  by  the  churchyard  wall 
A  dead  person  knows  more  than  all  we  living 
ones.  The  dead  know  what  a  terror  would 
come  upon  us,  if  the  strange  thing  were  to  hajv 
pen  that  they  appeared  among  ns:  the  dea<i 
are  better  than  we  all;  the  dead  return  no 
more.  The  earth  has  been  heaped  over  the 
coffin,  and  it  is  earth  that  lies  in  the  coffin ; 
and  the  leaves  of  the  hymn-book  are  dust,  and 
the  rose  with  all  its  recollections  has  returned 
to  dust  likewise.  Bnt  above,  there  bloom  fresh 
roses;  the  nightingale  sings  and  the  orgau 
sounds,  and  the  remembrance  Kves  of  the  old 
grandmother,  with  the  mild  eyes  that  always 
looked  young.  Eyes  can  ne^ver  die!  Ours 
will  once  behold  grandmother  again,  young 
and  beautiful,  as  w^hen  for  the  first  time  she 
kissed  the  fresh  red  rose  that  is  now  dust  in  tho 
grave. 


FIVE  OUT  OP  ONE  SHELL. 


^^^^^)WKRE  were  five  peas  in  one  sliell: 
thej  were  green,  and  tlie  pod  waa 
green,  and  so  tliej  thought  all  the 
world  was  green ;  and  that  was  just 
as  it  should  be !  The  shell  grew,  and 
the  peas  grew;  they  accommodated 
themselves  to  circimistances,  sittins:  all 
in  a  row.  The  sun  shone  without,  and  warmed 
the  husk,  and  the  rain  made  it  clear  and  trans- 
parent :  it  was  mild  and  agreeable  in  the  bright 
day  and  in  the  dark  night,  just  as  it  should  be ; 
and  the  peas  as  they  sat  there  became  bigger 
and  bigger,  and  more  and  more  thoughtful,  for 
omething  they  must  do. 

"  Are  we  to  sit  here  everlastingly  ?"  asked 
one.  'Tm  afraid  we  shall  become  hard  by 
Injig  sitting.  It  seems  to  me,  there  must  bo 
Bomething  outside;  I  have  a  kind  of  inkling 
of  it." 

And  weeks  went  by;  the  peas  became  yel 


134  FIVE   OUT   OF   ONE   SHELL. 

low,  and  tbe  pods  turned  yellow.  "All  tliu 
world's  turniiig  yellow,"  said  they ;  and  the^ 
had  a  right  to  say  it. 

Suddenly  they  felt  a  tug  at  the  shell.  The 
shell  was  torn  ofF,  passed  through  human  hands, 
and  glided  down  into  the  pocket  of  a  jacket,  in 
company  with  other  full  pods.  "  l^ow  we  shall 
soon  be  opened !"  they  said ;  and  that  is  ju^t 
what  they  were  waiting  for. 

"  I  should  like  to  know  who  of  us  will  get  fur- 
thest !"  said  the  smallest  of  the  &Ye.  Yes,  now 
it  will  soon  show  itself" 

""Wliat  is  to  be,  will  be,"  said  the  biggest. 
"  Crack  T"  the  pod  burst,  and  all  the  five  peas 
rolled  out  into  the  bright  sunshine.  There  they 
lay  in  a  child's  hand ;  a  little  boy  was  clutching 
them,  and  said  they  were  fine  peas  for  his  pea- 
shooter ;  and  he  put  one  in  directly  and  shot  it 
out. 

"  Kow  I'm  flying  out  into  the  wide  world, 
catch  me  if  you  can  !"  and  he  was  gone.  "  I," 
Baid  the  second,  "I  shall  fly  straight  into  the 
Biin.  That's  a  shell  worth  looking  at,  and  one 
that  exactly  suits  me,"  and  away  he  went. 

"  We'll  go  to  sleep  wherever  we  arrive,"  said 
the  two  next,  "but  we  shall  roll  on  all  the 
Bamo."     And  they  certainly  rolled  and  turn 


FIYE    OUT   OF   ONE    SHELL.  135 

bled  do\vii  on  the  ground  before  tliey  got  into 
the  pea-shooter,  but  thej  were  put  in  for  all 
that.     "  We  shall  go  furthest,"  said  they. 

"  What  is  to  happen  will  happen !"  said  the 
last,  as  he  was  shot  forth  out  of  the  pea-shooter ; 
and  he  flew  up  against  the  old  board  under  the 
gaiTet  window,  just  into  a  crack  which  was 
filled  up  with  moss  and  soft  mould ;  and  the 
moss  closed  round  him  :  there  he  lay,  a  prisoner 
indeed,  but  not  forgotten  by  provident  nature. 

"  Wliat  is  to  happen  will  happen,"  said  he. 

Within,  in  the  little  garret,  lived  a  poor 
woman,  who  went  out  in  the  day  to  clean 
stoves,  chop  wood  small,  and  to  do  other  hard 
work  of  the  same  kind,  for  she  was  strong  and 
industrious  too.  But  she  always  remained 
poor ;  and  at  home  in  the  garret  lay  her  half- 
grown  only  daughter,  who  was  very  delicate 
and  weak ;  for  a  whole  year  she  had  kept  her 
bed,  and  it  seemed  as  if  she  could  neither  live 
nor  die. 

''  She  is  going  to  her  little  sister,"  the  woman 
said.  "  I  had  only  the  two  children,  and  it  was 
not  an  easy  thing  to  provide  for  both,  but  the 
good  God  provided  for  one  of  them  by  taking 
her  homo  to  Himself:  now  I  should  be  glad  to 
l^eep  the  other  that  was  left  to  mo;  but  T  sup 


136  rrs'E  out  of  one  shell. 

pose  they  are  not  to  remain  separated,  and  mj 
sick  girl  will  go  to  her  sister  in  heaven." 

But  the  sick  girl  remained  where  she  was ; 
he  lay  quiet  and  patient  all  day  long,  while 
her  mother  went  to  earn  money  out  of  dooi**. 
It  was  spring,  and  earl}^  in  the  morning,  just 
as  the  mother  was  about  to  go  out  to  work, 
the  snn  shone  mildly  and  pleasantly  through 
the  little  window,  and  threw  its  rays  across 
the  floor ;  and  the  sick  girl  fixed  her  eyes  on 
the  lowest  pane  in  the  window. 

"  What  may  that  green  thing  he  that  looks 
in  at  the  window  ?  See,  it  is  moving  in  the 
whid." 

And  the  mother  stepped  to  the  window  and 
half  opened  it.  "  Oh  !"  said  she,  "  on  my  word, 
that  is  a  little  pea  which  has  taken  root  here, 
and  is  putting  out  its  little  leaves.  How  can  it 
Lave  got  here  into  the  crack  ?  That  is  a  little 
garden  with  which  you  can  amuse  yourself." 

And  the  sick  girl's  bed  was  moved  nearer  to 
the  window,  so  that  she  could  see  the  growing 
pea ;  and  the  mother  went  forth  to  her  work. 

"  Mother,  I  think  I  shall  get  well,"  said  the 
Bick  child  in  the  evening.  "  The  sun  shone  In 
upon  me  to-day,  delightfully  warm.  The  little 
pea  is  prospering  famously,  and  I  shall  prosper 


FIVE   OUT   OF    OKE    SHELL.  137 

too,  and  get  up.  and  go  out  into  the  wana  sun- 
shine." 

"  God  grant  it  1"  said  the  mother,  but  she 
did  not  believe  it  would  be  so ;  but  she  took 
care  to  prop  with  a  little  stick  the  green  plant 
which  had  given  her  daughter  the  pleasant 
thoughts  of  life,  so  that  it  might  not  be  broken 
by  the  wind :  she  tied  a  piece  of  string  to  the 
window-sill,  and  to  the  upper  part  of  the  frame, 
so  that  the  pea  might  have  something  round 
which  it  could  twine,  when  it  shot  up ;  and  it  did 
shoot  up,  one  could  see  how  it  grew  every  day. 

"  Really,  here  is  a  flower  coming !"  said  the 
woman  one  day,  and  now  she  began  to  cherish 
the  hope  that  her  sick  daughter  would  recover ; 
she  remembered  that  lately  the  child  had 
spoken  much  more  cheerfully  than  before,  that 
in  the  last  few  days  she  had  risen  up  in  bed  of 
her  own  accord,  and  had  sat  upright,  looking 
with  delighted  eyes  at  the  little  garden  in  which 
only  one  plant  grew.  A  week  afterwards  the 
invalid  for  the  fii'st  time  sat  up  for  a  whole 
hour.  Quite  happy  she  sat  there  in  the  warm 
sunshine ;  the  window  was  opened,  and  outside, 
l)efore  it,  s':ood  a  pink  pea-blossom  fully  blown. 
The  sick  girl  bent  down,  and  gently  kissed  the 
delicate  leaves.     This  day  was  like  a  festivaL 


V6S  FIVE   OUT   OF    ONE    SHELL. 

"  The  heavenly  Father  Himself  has  planted 
that  pea,  and  caused  it  to  prosper,  to  be  a  joj* 
to  you,  and  to  me  also,  my  blessed  child  !"  said 
the  glad  mother,  and  she  smiled  at  the  flower, 
as  if  it  had  been  a  good  angel. 

But  about  the  other  peas?  Why,  the  ono 
who  flew  out  into  the  wide  world,  and  said, 
"  Catch  me  if  you  can,"  fell  into  the  gutter  on 
the  roof,  and  found  a  home  in  a  pigeon's  crop. 
The  two  lazy  ones  got  just  as  far,  for  they,  too, 
were  eaten  up  by  pigeons,  and  thus  at  any  rate 
they  were  of  some  real  use ;  but  the  fourth,  who 
wanted  to  go  up  into  the  sun,  fell  into  the  sink, 
and  lay  there  in  the  dirty  water  for  weeks  and 
weeks,  and  swelled  prodigiously. 

"  How  beautifully  fat  I  am  growing !"  said 
the  pea.  "  I  shall  burst  at  last ;  and  I  don't 
think  any  pea  can  do  more  than  that.  I'm  the 
most  remarkable  of  all  the  five  that  were  in  the 
shell ;"  and  the  sink  said  he  was  right. 

But  the  young  girl  at  the  garret  window 
Blood  there  with  gleaming  eyes,  with  the  rose- 
ate hue  of  health  on  her  cheeks,  and  folded  her 
thin  hands  over  the  pea-blossom,  and  thanked 
heaven  for  it. 

"  I,"  said  the  sink, "  stand  up  for  my  own  pea." 


THE  GIRL 

WHO  TROD   UPON  BREAD. 


OU  liave  doubtless  heard  of  the  gir. 
who  trod  upon  bread,  not  to  soil  hei 
pretty  shoes,  and  what  evil  this  brought 
upon  her.  The  tale  is  both  written 
and  printed. 

She  was  a  poor  child,  but  proud  and 
vain.  She  had  a  bad  disposition,  peo- 
ple said.  When  slie  was  a  little  more  than  an 
infant,  it  was  a  pleasure  to  her  to  catch  flies,  to 
pull  oif  their  wings,  and  maim  them  entirely. 
She  used,  when  somewhat  older,  to  take  lady- 
birds and  beetles,  stick  them  all  upon  a  pin, 
tlien  put  a  large  leaf  or  a  piece  of  paper  close 
to  their  feet,  so  that  the  poor  things  held  fast 
to  it,  and  tm^ned  and  twisted  in  their  endeaT- 
ors  to  get  off  the  pin. 

"  InTow  the  lady-birds  shall  read,"  said  little 
Inger.     "  See  how  they  turn  the  paper  1" 


140    THE  GIEL  WHO  TEOD  UrON  BREAD. 

As  she  grew  older  slie  became  worse  instead 
of  better ;  but  she  was  very  beautiful,  and  that 
was  her  misfortune.  She  would  have  been  pun- 
iebed  otherwise,  and  in  ^he  long  run  she  was. 

"You  will  bring  evil  on  your  own  head,'* 
eaid  her  mother.  "  As  a  little  child  you  used 
often  to  tear  my  aprons ;  I  fear  that  when  you 
are  older  you  will  break  my  heart." 

And  she  did  so  sure  enough. 

At  length  she  went  into  the  country  to  wait 
on  people  of  distinction.  They  were  as  kind 
to  her  as  if  she  had  been  t)ne  of  their  own  fam- 
ily; and  she  was  so  well  dressed  that  she 
looked  very  pretty,  and  became  extremely  ar- 
rogant. 

When  she  had  been  a  year  in  service,  her 
employers  said  to  her — 

"You  should  go  and  visit  your  relations, 
little  Inger." 

She  Avent,  resolved  to  let  them  see  how  fine 
she  had  become.  When,  hoAvever,  she  reached 
the  village,  and  saw  the  lads  and  lasses  gossip- 
ing together  near  the  pond,  and  her  mother 
sitting  close  by  on  '  a  stone,  resting  her  head 
against  a  bundle  of  firewood  which  she  had 
picked  up  in  the  forest,  Inger  turned  back. 
She  felt  ashamed  that  she  who  was  dressed  sc 


I  HE    OrRL    WHO   TBOD   UPON    BREAD.         141 

gmartiv  should  have  for  her  mother  snch  a  rag- 
ged creature,  one  who  gathered  sticks  for  her 
fire.  It  gave  her  no  concern  that  she  was  ex 
pected — she  was  so  vexed. 

A  half  year  more  had  passed. 

"  You  must  go  home  some  day  and  see  your 
old  parents,  little  Inger,"  said  the  mistress  oi 
the  house.  "  Here  is  a  large  loaf  of  white 
bread — you  can  carry  this  to  them ;  they  will 
be  rejoiced  to  see  you." 

And  Inger  put  on  her  best  clothes  and  hei 
nice  new  shoes,  and  she  Hfted  her  dress  high, 
and  walked  so  carefully,  that  she  might  not 
soil  her  gaiments  or  her  feet.  There  was  no 
harm  at  all  in  that.  But  when  she  came  to 
where  the  path  went  over  some  damp,  marshy 
ground,  and  there  were  water  and  mud  in  the 
way,  she  threw  the  bread  into  the  mud,  in 
order  to  step  u]3on  it  and  get  over  with  dry 
shoes;  but  just  as  she  had  placed  one  foot  on 
the  bread,  and  had  lifted  the  other  up,  the 
broad  sank  in  with  her  deeper  and  deeper,  till 
she  went  entirely  down,  and  nothing  was  to  be 
seen  but  a  black  bubbling  pool. 

That  is  the  story. 

What  became  of  the  girl  ?  She  went  below 
to  the  Old  Woman  of  the  Bogs^  who  brewa 


142    THE  GIEL  WHO  TEOD  UPON  BREAD. 

down  there.  The  Old  Woman  of  the  Bogs  is 
an  aunt  of  the  fau-ies.  They  are  very  well 
known.  Many  poems  have  been  written  about 
them,  and  they  have  been  printed ;  but  nobody 
knows  any  thing  more  of  the  Old  Woman  o 
the  Bogs  than  that,  when  the  meadows  and 
the  ground  begin  to  reek  in  summer,  it  is  the 
old  woman  below  who  is  brewing.  Into  her 
brewery  it  was  that  Inger  sank,  and  no  one 
could  hold  out  very  long  there.  A  cesspool  is 
a  charming  apartment  compared  with  the  old 
Bog-woman's  brewery.  Every  vessel  is  redo- 
lent of  horrible  smells,  which  would  make  any 
human  being  faint,  and  they  are  packed  closely 
together  and  over  each  other ;  but  even  if  there 
were  a  small  space  among  them  which  one 
might  creep  through,  it  would  be  impossible, 
on  account  of  all  the  slimy  toads  and  snakes 
that  a^e  always  crawling  and  forcing  them- 
selves through.  Into  this  place  little  Inger 
Bank.  All  this  nauseous  mess  was  so  ice-cold 
that  she  shivered  in  every  limb.  Yes,  she  be- 
came stiffer  and  stiffer.  The  bread  stuck  fast 
to  her,  and  it  drew  her  as  an  amber  bead  di'aws 
a  slender  thread. 

The  Old  Woman  of  the  Bogs  was  at  home. 
The  brewery  was  that  day  visited  by  the  devil 


THE    GIEL    WHO    TEOD    Ul'OX    BEEAD.         143 

and  Ills  dam,  and  she  was  a  Tenomous  old 
creature  who  was  never  idle.  She  never  went 
out  without  ha^-ing  some  needlework  with  hei*. 
She  had  l)rouo:ht  some  there.  She  w^as  sewin*^ 
running  leather  to  put  into  the  shoes  of  human 
beings,  so  that  they  should  never  be  at  rest 
She  embroidered  lies,  and  worked  up  into  mis- 
chief and  discord  thoughtless  words,  that  would 
otherwise  have  fallen  to  the  ground.  Yes,  she 
knew  how  to  sew  and  embroider,  and  transfer 
with  a  vengeance,  that  old  gran  dam  ! 

She  beheld  Inger,  put  on  her  spectacles,  ana 
looked  at  her. 

"  That  is  a  girl  with  talents,"  said  she.  ''  I 
Bliall  ask  for  her  as  a  souvenir  of  m  j  visit  here ; 
she  may  do  very  well  as  a  statue  to  ornament 
my  great-grandchildren's  ante-chamber ;"  and 
she  took  her. 

It  was  thus  little  Inger  went  to  the  infernal 
regions.  People  do  not  generally  go  straight 
through  the  air  to  them:  they  can  go  by  a 
roundabout  path  when  they  know  the  way. 

It  was  an  ante-chamber  in  an  infinity.     One 

)ecame  giddy  there  at  looking  forwards,  and 

giddy  at  looking  backwards,  and  there  stood  a 

crowd  of  anxious,  pining  beings,  who   were 

waiting  and  hoping  for  the    time  when   the 


144   THE  GIKL  WHO  TEOD  UPON  BEEAD. 

gates  of  grace  should  be  opened.  They  wonla 
have  long  to  wait.  Hideous,  large,  waddling 
spiders  wove  thousands  of  webs  over  their  feet ; 
and  these  webs  were  like  gins  or  foot-screws, 
and  held  them  as  fast  as  chains  of  iron,  and 
were  a  cause  of  disquiet  to  every  soul — a  pain- 
ful annoyance.  Misers  stood  there,  and  la- 
mented that  they  had  forgotten  the  keys  ol 
their  money  chests.  It  would  be  too  tiresome 
to  repeat  aU  the  complaints  and  troubles  that 
were  pom-ed  forth  there.  Inger  thought  it 
shocking  to  stand  there  like  a  statue ;  she  was, 
as  it  were,  fastened  to  the  ground  by  the  bread. 

"  This  comes  of  wishing  to  have  clean  shoes," 
said  she  to  herself  "  See  how  they  all  stare  at 
me!" 

Yes,  they  did  all  stare  at  her;  their  evil 
passions  glared  from  their  eyes,  and  spoke, 
without  sound,  from  the  corner  of  their  mouths : 
they  were  frightful. 

"  It  must  be  a  pleasure  to  them  to  see  me," 
thought  little  Inger.  "I  have  a  pretty  face 
and  am  well  dressed ;"  and  she  dried  her  eyes. 
She  had  not  lost  her  conceit.  She  had  not 
then  perceived  how  her  fine  clothes  had  been 
soiled  in  the  brewhouse  of  the  Old  Woman  oi 
the  Bogs.    Her  dress  was  covered  with  the 


THE   GLRL    WHO    TEOJ>   UPON   BEE  AD.         145 

dabs  of  nasty  matter;  a  snake  had  wound 
itself  among  her  hair,  and  it  dangled  over  hei 
neck;  and  from  every  fold  of  her  garment 
peeped  out  a  toad,  that  puffed  like  an  asthmatic 
lap-dog.  It  was  very  disagreeable.  "  But  all 
the  rest  down  here  look  horrid  too,"  was  the 
reflection  with  which  she  consoled  herself. 

But  the  worst  of  all  was  the  dreadful  hunger 
she  felt.  Could  she  not  stoop  down  and  break 
off  a  piece  of  the  bread  on  which  she  was 
standing?  !N'o;  her  back  was  stiffened;  her 
hands  and  her  arms  were  stiffened ;  her  whole 
body  was  like  a  statue  of  stone ;  she  could  only 
move  her  eyes,  and  these  she  could  tm-n  entirely 
round,  and  that  was  an  ugly  sight.  And  flies 
came  and  crept  over  her  eyes  backwards  and 
forwards.  She  winked  her  eyes;  but  the  in- 
truders did  not  fly  away,  for  they  could  not — 
their  wings  had  been  pulled  o&.  That  was 
another  misery  added  to  the  himger — the 
gnawing  hunger  that  was  so  terrible  to  bear ! 

"  If  this  goes  on,  I  cannot  hold  out  much 
longer,"  she  said. 

But  she  had  to  hold  out,  and  her  sufferings 
became  greater. 

Then  a  warm  tear  fell  upon  her  head.  It 
trickled  over  her  face  and  her  neck,  aU  the 


14:6         THE   GIRL    V/HO   TROD    UPON    BREAD. 

way  down  to  the  bread.  Another  tear  i'cll. 
then  many  followed.  Who  was  weeping  over 
little  Inger '?  Had  she  not  a  mother  up  yonder 
on  the  earth?  The  tears  of  anguish  w^hich  a 
mother  sheds  over  her  erring  child  always 
reach  it ;  but  they  do  not  comfort  the  child — 
they  bum,  they  increase  the  sutfering.  And 
oh !  this  intolerable  hunger ;  yet  not  to  be  able 
to  snatch  one  mouthfid  of  the  bread  she  was 
treading  under  foot !  She  became  as  thin,  as 
slender  as  a  reed.  Another  trial  w^as  that  she 
heard  distinctly  all  that  was  said  of  her  above 
on  the  earth,  and  it  was  nothing  but  blame  and 
evil.  Though  her  mother  w^ept,  and  was  in 
much  affliction,  she  still  said — ^ 

*'  Pride  goes  before  a  tall.  That  was  your 
great  fault,  Inger.  Oh,  how  miserable  you 
have  made  your  mother !" 

Her  mother  and  all  who  were  acquainted  with 
her  were  well  aware  of  the  sin  she  had  com- 
mitted in  treading  upon  bread.  Tkey  knew 
that  she  had  suuk  into  the  bog,  and  was  lost; 
the  cow^herd  had  told  that,  for  he  had  seen  it 
himself  from  the  brow  of  the  hill. 

''What  afflictH^  you  have  brought  on  yoiil 
mother,  Inger !"  exclaimed  lier  mother.  '*  Ah. 
well !  I  expected  no  better  from  you." 


THE    GESL  WHO  TKOD  UPON  BREAD.    14:1 

**  Wuuicl  that  I  had  never  been  born  !^^ 
thought  Inger;  "  that  would  have  been  much 
better  for  me.  My  mother's  whimpering  eau 
do  no  good  now." 

She  heard  how  the  family,  the  people  of  dis 
tinction  who  had  been  so  kind  to  her,  spoke. 
''  She  was  a  wicked  child,"  they  said ;  "  she 
•  valued  not  the  gifts  of  our  Lord,  but  trod  them 
under  her  feet.  It  will  be  difficult  for  her  to 
get  tlie  gates  of  grace  open  to  admit  her." 

"  They  ought  to  have  brought  me  up  better," 
thought  Inger.  "  They  should  have  taken  the 
whims  out  of  me,  if  I  had  any." 

She  heard  that  there  was  a  common  ballad 
made  about  her,  "  the  bad  gnl  w^ho  trod  upon 
bread,  to  keep  her  shoes  nicely  clean,"  and 
this  ballad  was  simg  from  one  end  of  the  coun- 
try to  the  other. 

''That  any  one  should  have  to  suffer  so 
much  for  such  as  that — be  punished  so  severely 
for  such  a  trifle  !"  thought  Inger.  "  All  these 
others  are  punished  justly,  for  no  doubt  there 
was  a  great  deal  to  punish ;  but  ah,  how  I 
sillier!" 

And  her  heart  became  still  l^j^der  than  the 
substance  into  which  she  had  been  turned. 

"]So  one  can  be  better  in  such  society.     1 


its    THE  GIRL  WHO  TEOD  UPON  BREAD. 

will  Dot  grow  better  here.  See  how  thej  glare 
at  me !" 

And  lier  heart  became  still  harder,  and  she 
felt  a  hatred  towards  all  mankind. 

"  They  have  a  nice  story  to  tell  up  there 
ow.     Oh,  how  I  suffer  !" 

She  listened,  and  heard  them  telling  her  his- 
tory as  a  warning  to  children,  and  the  little 
ones  called  her  "  ungodly  Inger."  *'  She  was 
so  naughty,"  they  said,  "  so  very  wicked,  that 
she  deserved  to  suffer." 

The  children  always  spoke  harshly  of  her. 
One  day,  however,  that  hunger  and  misery 
were  gnawing  her  most  dreadfully,  and  she 
heard  her  name  mentioned,  and  her  story  told 
to  an  innocent  child — a  little  girl — she  observed 
that  the  child  burst  into  tears  in  her  distress 
for  the  proud,  finely-dressed  Inger. 

"  But  wiU  she  never  come  up  again  ?"  asked 
he  child. 

The  answer  was : 

"  She  will  never  come  up  again." 

"  But  if  she  will  beg  pardon,  and  promise 
never  to  be  naughty  again  ?" 

"  But  she  will  not  beg  pardon,"  they  said. 

"  Oh,  how  I  wish  she  would  do  it !"  sobbed 
die  Uttie  girl  in  great  distress.     "  1  will  give 


THE   GIRL    WHO    TKOD    UPON    BREAD.         Ii9 

uiy  doll,  and  my  doll's  house  too,  if  Bhe  may 
come  up!  It  is  so  shocking  for  poor  little 
Inger  to  be  down  there !" 

These  words  touched  Inger's  heart ;  they 
seemed  almost  to  make  her  good.  It  was  the 
first  time  any  one  had  said  "  poor  Inger,"  and 
had  not  dwelt  upon  her  faults.  An  innocent 
child  cried  and  prayed  for  her.  She  was  so 
much  affected  by  this  that  she  felt  inclined  to 
weep  herself;  but  she  could  not,  and  this  was 
an  additional  pain. 

Years  passed  on  in  the  earth  above;  but 
down  where  she  was  there  was  no  change, 
except  that  she  heard  more  and  more  rarely 
sounds  from  above,  and  that  she  herself  was 
more  seldom  mentioned.  At  last  one  day  she 
heard  a  sigh,  and  "  Inger,  Inger,  how  misera- 
ble you  have  made  me !  I  foretold  that  you 
would !"  These  were  her  mother's  last  words 
on  her  death-bed. 

And  again  she  heard  herself  named  by  her 
i  )rmer  employers,  and  her  mistress  said — 

"  Perhaps  I  may  meet  you  once  more,  Inger. 
Kone  know  whither  they  are  to  go." 

But  Inger  knew  full  well  that  her  excellent 
mistress  would  never  come  to  the  place  whore 
she  was. 


150        THE    GIRL    WHO    TROD    UPOI^    BREAD. 

Time  passed  on,  and  on,  slowly  and  wretch- 
edly. Then  once  more  Inger  heard  lier  name 
mentioned,  and  she  beheld  as  it  were,  directly 
above  her  two  clear  stars  shining.  Theso 
were  two  mild  eyes  that  were  closing  upon 
earth.  So  many  years  had  elapsed  since  a 
little  girl  had  cried  in  childish  sorrow  over 
"  ])oor  Inger,"  that  that  child  had  become  an 
old  woman,  whom  our  Lord  was  now  about  to 
call  to  himself.  At  that  hour,  when  the 
tlioughts  and  the  actions  of  a  whole  life  stand 
in  review  before  the  parting  soul,  she  remem- 
bered how,  as  a  little  child,  she  had  wept  bit- 
terly on  hearing  the  history  of  Inger.  That 
time,  and  those  feelings,  stood  so  prominently 
before  the  old  woman's  mind  in  the  hour  of 
death,  that  she  cried  ^dth  intense  emotion  : 

"  Lord,  my  God !  have  not  I  often,  like 
Inger,  trod  under  foot  Thy  blessed  gifts,  and 
placed  no  value  on  them  ?  Have  I  not  often 
been  guilty  of  pride  and  vanity  in  my  secret 
heart?  But  Thou,  in  Thy  mercy,  didst  not 
let  me  sink;  Thou  didst  hold  me  up.  Oh, 
forsake  me  not  in  my  last  hour  !" 

And  the  aged  woman's  eyes  closed,  and  her 
Bpirit's  eyes  opened  to  what  had  been  formerly 
invisible;  and  as  Inger  had  been  present  in  hei 


THE   GIBL    WHO   TKOD    UPON   BREAD.         151 

latest  thoughts,  she  beheld  her,  and  perceived 
how  deep  she  had  been  dragged  downward? 
At  that  sight  the  gentle  being  burst  into  tears ; 
and  in  the  kingxlom  of  heaven  she  stood  like  a 
child,  and  wept  for  the  fate  of  the  unfortunate 
Inger.  Her  tears  and  her  prayers  sounded 
like  an  echo  down  in  the  hollow  form  that  con- 
fined the  imprisoned,  miserable  soul.  That 
soul  was  overwhelmed  by  the  unexpected  love 
from  those  realms  afar.  One  of  God's  angels 
wept  for  her !  Why  was  this  vouchsafed  to 
her  ?  The  tortm-ed  spirit  gathered,  as  it  were, 
into  one  thought,  all  the  actions  of  its  life — all 
that  it  had  done ;  and  it  shook  with  the  vio- 
lence of  its  remorse — remorse  such  as  Inger 
had  never  felt.  Grief  became  her  predomma- 
ting  feeling.  She  thought  that  for  her  the 
gates  of  mercy  would  never  open,  and  as  in 
deep  contrition  and  self-abasement  she  thought 
thiis,  a  ray  of  brightness  penetrated  into  the 
dismal  abyss — a  ray  more  vivid  and  glorious 
than  the  sunbeams  which  thaw  the  snow 
figures  that  the  children  make  in  their  gar- 
dens. And  this  ray,  miore  quickly  than  the 
Bnow  flake  that  falls  upon  a  child's  warm 
mouth  can  be  melted  into  a  drop  of  water, 
caused  Inger's  petrified  fi2;v.re   to   evaporate. 


152   THE  GIEL  WHO  TEOD  UPON  BREAU. 

and  a  little  bird  arose,  following  the  zigzag 
course  of  the  ray,  up  towards  the  world  that 
mankind  inhabit.  But  it  seemed  afraid  and 
shy  of  every  thing  around  it ;  it  felt  ashamed 
of  itself;  and  apparently  wishing  to  avoid  all 
living  creatures,  it  sought,  in  haste,  conceal- 
ment in  a  dark  recess  in  a  crumblino:  wall. 
Here  it  sat,  and  it  crept  into  the  farthest 
comer,  trembling  all  over.  It  could  not  sing, 
for  it  had  no  voice.  For  a  long  time  it  sat 
quietly  there  before  it  ventured  to  look  out  and 
behold  all  the  beauty  around.  Yes,  it  was 
beauty  !  The  air  was  so  fresh,  yet  so  soft ;  the 
moon  shone  so  clearly ;  the  trees  and  the  flow- 
ers scented  so  sweetly ;  and  it  was  so  comfort- 
able where  she  sat — ^her  feather  garb  so  clean 
and  nice  !  How  all  creation  told  of  love  and 
glory !  The  grateful  thoughts  that  awoke  in 
the  bird's  breast  she  would  willingly  have 
poured  forth  in  song,  but  the  power  was  de- 
nied to  her.  Yes,  gladly  would  she  have  sung 
as  do  the  cuckoo  and  nightingale  in  spring. 
Our  gracious  Lord,  who  hears  the  mute  worm's 
hymn  of  praise,  understood  the  thanksgiving 
that  lifted  itself  up  in  the  tones  of  thought,  aa 
the  psalm  floated  in  David's  mind  before  it 
resolved  itseK  into  words  and  melody 


THE  GIRL  WHO  TEOD  UPON  BEEAD.    153 

As  weeks  passed  on,  these  unexpressed  feel 

ings  of  gratitude  increased.     Tliev  would  sure* 

Ij  find  a  voice  some  day,  with  thQ  fii*st  stroke 

C)f  the  wing,  to  perform  some  good  act.    Migh^ 

ot  this  happen  ? 

]!!^ow  came  the  holy  Christmas  festival.  The 
peasants  raised  a  pole  close  by  the  old  wall, 
and  bound  an  unthrashed  bundle  of  oats  on  it, 
that  the  birds  of  the  au*  might  also  enjoy  the 
Christmas,  and  have  plenty  to  eat  at  that  time 
which  -  was  lield  in  commemoration  of  the 
redemption  brought  to  mankind. 

And  the  sun  rose  brightly  that  Christmas 
aiorning,  and  shone  upon  the  oat-sheaf,  and 
ipon  all  the  chirping  bii'ds  that  flew  around 
the  pole ;  and  from  the  wall  issued  a  faint 
twittering.  The  swelling  thoughts  had  at  last 
:Ound  vent,  and  the  low  sound  was  a  hymn  ol 
loy,  as  the  bu'd  flew  forth  from  its  hiding- 
place. 

The  winter  was  an  unusually  severe  one. 
The  waters  were  frozen  thickly  over ;  the  birds 
and  the  wild  animals  in  the  woods  had  great 
difiiculty  in  obtaining  food.  The  little  bird, 
that  had  so  recently  left  its  dark  sctlitude,  flew 
about  the  country  roads,  and  when  it  ioimd  by 
chance  a  little   com  dropped  in  the  ruts,  it 


154        THE   GIRL    WHO  TKOD    [JPON   BKEAD. 

would  eat  only  a  single  grain  itself,  while  it 
called  all  the  starving  sparrows  to  partake  oi 
it.  It  would  also  fly  to  the  villages  and  towns 
and  look  ^vell  about;  and  where  kind  hands 
had  strewed  crumbs  of  bread  outside  the  win 
dows  for  the  birds,  it  would  eat  only  one  mor 
sel  itself,  and  give  all  the  rest  to  the  others. 

At  the  end  of  the  winter  the  bird  had  found 
and  given  away  so  many  crumbs  of  bread,  that 
the  number  put  together  w^ould  have  weigher 
as  much  as  the  loaf  upon  which  little  Ingei 
had  trodden  in  order  to  save  her  fine  shoes 
from  being  soiled;  and  when  she  had  found 
and  given  away  the  very  last  crumb,  the  gray 
wings  of  the  bird  became  white,  and  expanded 
wonderfally. 

"  It  is  flying  over  the  sea !"  exclaimed  the 
children  who  saw  the  white  bird.  Now  it 
seemed  to  dip  into  the  ocean,  now  it  arose 
into  the  clear  sunshine ;  it  glittered  in  the  air  ^ 
it  disappeared  high,  high  above ;  and  the  cliil 
dren  said  that  it  had  flown  up  to  the  sun. 


THE  OLD 

CAK-TREE'S  LAST  DREAM 

A  CHRISTMAS  TALE. 


HEEE  stood  in  a  wood,  high  up  on 
the  side  of  a  sloping  hill  near  the  open 
shore,  a  very  old  oak-tree.  It  was 
about  three  hundred  and  sixty-five 
years  old ;  but  those  long  years  were 
not  more  than  as  many  single  rota- 
tions of  the  earth  for  us  men.  We 
are  awake  during  the  day,  and  sleep  during 
the  night,  and  have  then  our  dreams :  with  the 
tree  it  is  otherwise.  A  tree  is  awake  for  three 
quarters  of  a  year.  It  only  sleeps  in  winter — 
tliat  is  its  night — after  the  long  d*07  ^Licb  le 
called  spring,  summer,  and  autum^f.'^-' 

Many  a  warm  summer  day  had  the  ephem 
eron  insect    frolicked   around   the    oak-tree*s 


156        THE    OLD    oak-tree's    LAST   DREAM. 

head — lived,  moved  about,  and  found  itself 
happy;  and  when  the  little  creature  reposed 
for  a  moment  in  calm  enjoyment  on  one  of  the 
great  fresh  oak-leaves,  tlie  tree  always  said — 

'■  Poor  little  thing !  one  day  alone  is  the  spa! 
of  thy  whole  life.  Ah,  how  short !  It  is  ver^ 
sad." 

"Sad!"  the  ephemeron  always  replied. 
"  What  dost  thou  mean  by  that  ?  Every  thing 
is  so  chai-ming,  so  warm  and  delightful,  that  1 
am  quite  happy." 

"  But  for  only  one  day ;  then  all  is  over." 

"  All  is  over !"  exclaimed  the  insect.  "  What 
is  the  meaning  of  '  all  is  over  V  Is  all  over 
with  thee  also  ?" 

"  No ;  I  may  live,  perhaps,  thousands  of  thy 
daj^s,  and  my  lifetime  is  for  centuries.  It  is  so 
long  a  period  that  thou  couldst  not  calcu- 
late it." 

"ITo,  fori  do  not  understand  thee.     Thou 
hast  thousands  of  my  days ;  but  1  have  thou- 
sands of  moments  to  be  bappy  in.     Is  all  th 
beauty   in    the  world  at  an    end  when  thou 
diest  ?"      i 

"Oh!  \^  no  means,"  replied  the  tree.  "  It 
will  last  longer — much,  much  longer  than  1 


THE   OLD    OAK-IKEE  S    LAST    DEE  AM.         157 

"  Well,  I  tlimk  we  are  much  ou  a  par,  only 
that  we  reckon  differently." 

And  the  ephemeron  danced  and  floated  about 
in  the  sunshine,  and  enjoyed  itself  with  ita 
pretty  little  delicate  wings,  like  the  most  mi 
nute  flower — enjoyed  itself  in  the  warm  air, 
which  was  so  fragrant  with  the  sweet  perfumes 
of  the  clover-fields,  of  the  wild  roses  in  the 
hedges,  and  of  the  elder-flower,  not  to  speak  of 
t-he  woodbine,  the  primrose,  and  the  wild  mint. 
The  scent  was  so  strong,  that  the  ephemeron 
was  almost  intoxicated  by  it.  The  day  was  long 
and  pleasant,  full  of  gladness  and  sweet  percep- 
tions ;  and  when  the  sun  set,  the  little  insect 
felt  a  sort  of  pleasing  languor  creeping  over  it 
after  all  its  enjoyments.  Its  wings  could  no 
longer  carry  it,  and  very  gently  it  glided  down 
upon  the  soft  blade  of  grass  that  was  slightly 
waving  in  the  evening  breeze ;  there  it  drooped 
its  tiny  head,  and  fell  into  a  calm  sleep — the 
sleep  of  death. 

"  Poor  little  insect !"  exclaimed  the  oak-tree, 
''  thy  life  was  far  too  short." 

And  every  summer's  day  were  repeated  a 

similar  dance,  a  similar  conversation,  and  a 

«fr  similar  death.     This  went  ori  with  the  whole 

{ijeneratio7\  of  ephemera,  and  all  were  cquallj 


16? 


liappj,  equally  gay.     The  oak-tree  remained 
awake  during  its  spring  morning,  its  summer 
day,  and  its  autumn  evening ;  now  it  was  near   ^ 
its  sleeping  time,  its  night — the  winter  waa 
close  at  hand. 

Already  the  tempests  were  singing,  "  Good 
night,  good-night !  Thy  leaves  are  falling — we 
pluck  them ! — we  pluck  them !  Try  if  thou 
canst  slumber ;  we  shall  sing  thee  to  sleep,  we 
shall  rock  thee  to  sleep ;  and  thy  old  boughs 
like  this — they  are  creaking  in  their  j oy !  Softly, 
softly  sleep !  It  is  thy  three  hundred  and  sixty- 
fifth  night.  Sleep  calmly !  The  snow  is  fall- 
ing from  the  heavy  clouds ;  it  will  soon  be  a 
wide  sheet,  a  warm  coverlet  for  thy  feet.  Sleep 
calmly  and  dream  pleasantly !" 

And  the  oak-tree  stood  disrobed  of  all  its 
leaves  to  go  to  rest  for  the  whole  long  winter, 
and  dm'ing  that  time  to  dream  many  dreams, 
often  something  stirring  and  exciting,  like  the 
dreams  of  human  beings. 

It,  too,  had  once  been  little.  Yes,  an  acorn 
had  been  its  cradle.  According  to  man's  reck 
oning  of  time,  it  was  now  living  in  its  fom-th 
century.  It  was  the  strongest  and  loftiest  tree 
in  the  wood,  with  its  venerable  head  reared  * 
high  above  all  the  other  trees ;  and  it  was  sees 


16b 


far  away  at  sea,  and  looked  upon  as  a  btacon 
by  the  navigators  of  the  passing  ships.  It  little 
thought  how  many  eyes  looked  out  for  it 
Sigh  up  amidst  its  green  coronal  the  wood 
pigeons  built  their  nests,  and  the  cuckoo's  not 
was  heard  from  thence;  and  in  the  autumn, 
when  the  leaves  looked  like  hammered  plates 
of  copper,  came  birds  of  passage,  and  rested 
there  before  they  flew  far  over  the  sea.  But 
now  it  was  winter,  and  the  tree  stood  leafless, 
and  the  bended  and  gnarled  branches  were 
naked.  Crows  and  jackdaws  came  and  sat 
themselves  there  alternately,  and  talked  of  the 
rigorous  weather  which  was  commencing,  ana 
how  often  difficult  it  was  to  find  food  in  winter. 

It  was  just  at  the  holy  Christmas  time  that 
the  tree  dreamt  its  most  charming  dream.  Let 
us  listen  to  it. 

The  tree  had  a  distinct  idea  that  it  was  a  pe- 
riod of  some  solemn  festival ;  it  thought  it  heard 
ail  the  church-bells  round  ringing,  ana  Jt  seemed 
to  be  a  mild  siunmer  day.  Its  lofty  head,  i":  fan- 
cied, looked  fresh  and  green,  while  the  bright 
rays  of  the  sun  played  among  its  thick  foliage. 
The  air  was  laden  with  the  perfume  of  wild* 
flowers;  various  butterflies  chased  each  other 
in  sport  around  its  boughs,  and  the  ephemera 


itiO        THE   OLD   OAK-TREE  S    LAST    DREAM. 

danced  and  amused  themselves.  All  that 
during  years  the  tree  had  known  and  seen 
around  it,  now  passed  before  it  as  in  a  fes- 
tive procession.  It  beheld,  as  in  the  olden 
time,  knights  and  ladies  on  horseback,  witli 
featliers  in  their  hats  and  falcons  on  their  hands, 
riding  through  the  greenwood;  it  heard  the 
homs  of  the  huntsmen,  and  the  baying  of  the 
hounds;  it  saw  the  enemies'  troops,  with  tlieir 
various  uniforms,  their  polished  armor,  their 
lances  and  lialberds,  pitch  their  tents  and  take 
them  down  again ;  the  watch-fires  blazed,  and 
the  soldiers  sang  and  slept  under  the  sheltering 
branches  of  the  tree.  It  beheld  lovers  meet  in 
the  soft  moonlight,  and  cut  their  names — that 
first  letter — upon  its  olive-green  bark.  Guitars 
vnd  ^olian  hai-ps  were  again — but  there  were 
very  many  years  between  them — ^hnng  up  on 
the  bouglis  of  the  tree  by  gay  travelling  swains, 
and  again  their  sweet  sounds  broke  on  the  still- 
ness around.  The  wood-pigeons  cooed,  as  if 
they  were  describing  the  feelings  of  the  tree, 
and  the  cuckoo  told  how  many  summer  days  it 
should  yet  live. 

Then  it  was  as  if  a  new  current  of  life 
rushed  from  its  lowest  roots  up  to  its  highest 
Iwanches,  even  to  the  furthest  leaves;  the  tree 


101 


felt  that  it  extended  itself  therewith,  yet  it  per- 
ceived that  its  roots  down  in  the  ground  were 
also  full  of  life  and  warmth ;  it  felt  its  strengtli 
increasing,  and  that  it  was  growing  taller  and 

aller.  The  trunk  shot  up — there  was  nu 
pause — more  and  more  it  grew — its  head  be- 
came fuller,  broader — and  as  the  tree  grew  it 
became  happier,  and  its  desire  increased  to 
rise  up  still  higher,  even  until  it  could  reach 
the  warm,  blazing  sun. 

Already  had  it  moimted  above  the  clouds, 
which,  like  multitudes  of  dark  migratory  birds, 
or  flocks  of  white  swans,  were  floating  under  it ; 
and  every  leaf  of  the  tree  that  had  eyes  could 
see.  The  stars  became  visible  during  the  day, 
and  looked  so  laro-e  and  bris^ht:  each  of  them 
shone  like  a  pair  of  mild,  clear  eyes.  They 
might  have  recalled  to  memory  dear,  well- 
known  eyes — the  eyes  of  children — the  eyes  of 
lovers  when  they  met  beneath  the  tree. 

It  was  a  moment  of  exquisite  delight      Tot 

n  the  midst  of  its  pleasure  it  felt  a  desire^  a 
longing  that  all  the  other  trees  in  the  wood 
Deneath — all  the  bushes,  plants,  and  flowers — 
might  be  able  to  lift  themselves  like  it,  and  to 
participate  in  its  joyful  and  triumphant  feel- 
ings.    The  mia'hty  oak-tree,  in  the  midst  of  it? 


162 


glorious  dream,  could  not  be  entirely  liap]i;y 
unless  it  had  all  its  old  friends  with  it,  great 
and  small ;  and  this  feeling  pervaded  eyery 
branch  and  leaf  of  the  tree  as  strongly  as  if  it 
had  lived  in  the  breast  of  a  human  beinor. 

The  summit  of  the  tree  moved  about  as  if  il 
missed  and  sought  something  left  behind. 
Then  it  perceived  the  scent  of  the  woodbine, 
and  soon  the  still  stronger  scent  of  the  violeta 
and  wild  thjine ;  and  it  fancied  it  could  hear 
the  cuckoo  repeat  its  note. 

At  length  amidst  the  clouds  peeped  forth 
the  tops  of  the  green  trees  of  the  wood ;  they 
also  grew  higher  and  higher,  as  the  oak  had 
done  ;  the  bushes  and  the  flowers  shot  up  high 
in  the  air ;  and  some  of  these,  dragging  their 
slender  roots  after  them,  flew  up  more  rapidly. 
The  birch  was  the  swiftest  among  the  trees : 
like  a  white  flash  of  lightning  it  darted  its 
slender  stem  upwards,  its  branches  waving  like 
green  wreaths  and  flags.  The  wood  and  all  its 
leafy  contents,  even  the  brown-feathered  rushes, 
'Tew,  and  the  birds  followed  them  singing ;  and 
n  the  fluttering  blades  of  sill^en  grass  the  grass 
hopper  sat  and  played  with  his  wings  against 
his  long  thin  legs,  and  the  wild  bees  hammed, 
and  all  was  song  and  gladness  as  up  in  heavea 


THE    JLD  OAK-TKEE  6    LAST   DEEAil.         163 

"But  the  blue-bell  and  the  little  wild 
taasy,"  said  the  oak^ree;  "I  should  like 
tliem  with  me  toe." 

"  We  are  with  you,"  they  sang  in  their  low 
sweet  tones. 

"  But  the  pretty  water-lily  of  last  year,  and 
tlie  wild  apple-tree  that  stood  do^Ti  yonder, 
and  looked  so  fresh,  and  all  the  forest  flowers 
of  years  past,  had  they  lived  and  bloomed  till 
now,  they  might  have  been  with  me." 

"  We  are  with  you — we  are  with  you,"  sang 
their  voices  far  above,  as  if  they  had  gone  up 
before. 

"  Weil,  this  is  quite  enchanting,"  cried  the 
old  tree.  "  I  have  them  all,  small  and  great — 
not  one  is  forgotten.  How  is  all  this  happiness 
possible  and  conceivable  ?" 

"  In  the  celestial  paradise  all  this  is  possible 
and  conceivable,"  voices  chanted  around. 

And  the  tree,  which  continued  to  rise,  ob 
served  that  its  roots  were  loosening  from  their 
hold  in  the  earth. 

"This  is  well,"  said  the  tree.  "Nothing 
now  ret&^ins  me.  I  am  free  to  mount  to  the 
highest  heaven — to  splendor  and  light :  and  all 
that  are  dear  to  me  are  with  me — small  and 
great — all  with  me." 


104        THE   OLD  OAK-TREES    LAST   DREAM. 

This  was  the  oak-tree  s  dream ;  and  whilst  it 
dreamt,  a  fearful  storm  had  burst  over  sea  and 
land  tl/at  holy  Christmas  eve.  The  ocean 
rolled  heavy  billows  on  the  beach — the  tree 
rocked  violently,  and  was  torn  up  by  the  roots 
at  the  moment  it  was  dreaming  that  its  roots 
were  loosening.  It  fell.  Its  three  hundred 
and  sixty-five  years  were  now  as  but  the  day  oi 
the  ephemeron. 

On  Christmas  morning,  when  the  sun  arose, 
the  storm  was  passed.  AU  the  church-bells 
were  ringing  joyously ;  and  from  every  chim- 
ney, even  the  lowest  in  the  peasant's  cot,  curled 
from  the  altars  of  the  Druidical  feast  the  blue 
smoke  of  the  thanksgiving  oblation.  The  sea 
became  more  and  more  calm,  and  on  a  large 
vessel  in  the  offing,  which  had  weatliered  the 
tempest  during  the  night,  were  hoisted  all  its 
flags  in  honor  of  the  day. 

''  The  tree  is  gone — that  old  oak-tree,  whic^h 
was  always  our  landmark !"  cried  the  sailors 
^'  It  must  have  fallen  in  the  storm  last  night 
WIio  shall  replace  it  ?    Alas !  no  one  can.'' 

This  was  the  tree's  funeral  oration — short, 
but  well  meant — as  it  lay  stretched  at  full 
length  amidst  the  snow  upon  the  shore,  and 


THE  OLD  OAK-TKEE  S  LAST  DKEAM. 

over  it  floated  the  melody  of  tlie  psalin-tiiiiea 
from  the  ship—  hymns  of  Christmas  joy,  and 
thanksgivings  for  the  salvation  of  the  souls  oi 
mankind  by  Jesus  Christ,  and  the  blessed 
promise  of  everlasting  life. 

"  Let  sacred  songs  arise  on  liigh, 
Loud  hallelujahs  reach  the  sky  ; 
Let  joy  and  peace  each  mortal  share. 
While  hymns  of  praise  shall  fill  the  air." 

Thus  ran  the  old  psalm,  and  every  one  out 
yonder,  on  the  deck  of  the  ship,  lifted  up  his 
voice  in  thanksgiving  and  prayer,  just  as  the 
old  oak-tree  was  lifted  up  in  its  last  and  most 
delightftd  dream  on  that  Chi-istmas  eve. 


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